
I 



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COPYl^KlHT DEPOSIT. 



SELECTIONS FROM 

EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 
I 607- I 800 



EDITED BY 

WILLIAM B. CAIRNS 

ASSISTANT PROFESSOR OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 
IN THE UNIVERSITY OF WISCONSIN 



THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
1909 

All rights reserved 



T-7 



SS3 



Copyright, 1909, 

By the macmillan company. 



Set up and electrotyped. Published May, 1909. 



J. 8. Gushing Co. -Berwick & Smith Cop"'^'^''^^ °^ CONGhCSSl 
Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. I Two Cocm Keceived 

MAY 24180$ 



3 Cot.:.i-ijiii iLntrj 

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PREFACE 

This volume contains selections from the works of representa- 
tive American writers before Washington Irving. It is intended for 
use in the class-room by students who are making a fairly detailed 
study of American literature, and for reference and assigned read- 
ing by those whose work is more elementary or more cursory, 
A book of extracts always offers a poor substitute for access to 
complete works ; but since a fairly good library of early American 
writings can be found in only a few cities of the country, a collection 
like that which follows seems to have some reason for existence. 

Teachers of American literary history are coming pretty gener- 
ally to recognize that some knowledge of the temper and the man- 
ner of Colonial and Revolutionary writers is necessary to the full 
understanding of their successors. There is less general agree- 
ment, however, as to the authors and works that best repay study. 
In deciding what to include in this volume I have been guided to a 
great extent by my own experience with college classes, though I 
have given much weight to suggestions kindly offered by the 
publishers and by other teachers. My aim has been to make the 
collection representative and useful for its purpose, not necessarily 
to give the best writings of the time. T^us, Cotton and Shepard 
have proved in my experience well adapted to stand as representa- 
tives of the early New England divines ; but I am not rash enough 
to say \vith certainty that either of these men was greater than 
Hooker, Eliot, or others of their contemporaries. In some cases 
it will be obvious that I have chosen passages to show a writer's 
weakness, as well as his excellences. I cannot hope that the 
collection will suit any one person, but I trust that it may contain 
enough acceptable material to make it useful. 

Although it is unlikely that a book of selections will be made 
the basis of any scholarly research, I have felt bound to make the 



Vi PREFACE 

text as accurate as possible. It has not always been practicable 
to make extracts from the latest edition revised by the author, 
or from original manuscripts of works not printed in the author's 
lifetime. I have tried, however, in every case to follow an edition 
sufficiently accurate to serve most of the purposes of a student 
engaged in careful investigation. The texts chosen I have endeav- 
ored, with a few exceptions, to reproduce as closely as ordinary 
typographical devices would allow. The use of the long "s," the 
interchange of "u" and "v," "i" and "j," and such manuscript 
abbreviations as "y^" for "the" and "comon" for "common," 
have not seemed worth perpetuating. In all other respects the 
original spelling, capitalization, punctuation, etc., have been 
followed. Corrections of obvious typographical errors have 
usually been enclosed in brackets, as have emended readings, 
whether suggested by myself or by an earlier editor. Footnotes 
not by the author are also enclosed in brackets. The titles of 
most selections have, necessarily, been given by the editor; titles 
in the words of the author are enclosed in quotation marks in 
the Table of Contents. As the book may be used in mixed 
classes in secondary schools two brief and unimportant passages 
have been omitted on the ground of impropriety. These omis- 
sions are indicated in the proper places. 

For kind permission to follow copyrighted reprints I am 
indebted to G. P. Putnam's Sons, publishers of Conway's edition 
of the writings of Thomas Paine, Ford's edition of the works of 
Jefferson, and Lodge's edition of the works of Hamilton; to 
Doubleday, Page & Co., publishers of Bassett's edition of the 
writings of William Byrd ; to the Library of Princeton University, 
publishers of Pattee's edition of Freneau ; to Mr. Charles Francis 
Adams, editor, and the Prince Society, publisher, of writings of 
Thomas Morton and John Cotton; and to Mr. Sidney S. Rider, 
editor and publisher of Peter Folger's "A Looking Glass for the 
Times," in the Rhode Island Historical Tracts. I also vidsh to 
express my thanks to the Library of Harvard University for the 
privilege of using, in Wisconsin, three or four rare and much 
needed volumes. 

W. B. C. 
University of Wisconsin, 
January, 1909. 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

John Smith i 

The beginnings of Jamestown 2 

An adventure with the Indians 4 

The religious observances of the Indians ...... 10 

On colonization .......... 14 

A diversion for the ladies 16 



William Strachey 



19 



A storm and a shipwreck ........ 19 



William Bradford 



27 



First acquaintance with the Indians ...... 28 

The voyage of the Mayflower ........ 31 

The settlement at Merry Mount ••••••• 35 

The destruction of the Pequods ....... 40 

Some verses on New England ....... 41 

John Winthrop 44 

A half year in Massachusetts Bay 44 

The instituting of a church ........ 49 

A remarkable providence ........ 50 

On the nature of liberty 50, 

Some edifying casualties ......... C3 

Religious experiences ......... cc 

Letters to Mrs. Winthrop ........ 57 

Thomas Morton 60 

Dedication of the Neiv English Canaan ...... 61 

" The generall survey of the country "... . . . .62 

"Of Thomas Mortons entertainement at Plimouth, and castinge 

away upon an island " 63 

" Of a man indued with many spetiall guifts sent over to be Master 

of the ceremonies" ......... 65 

"Of a great monster supposed to be at Ma-re-Mount ; and the 

preparation made to destroy it" 67 

" How the g. worthies put mine host of Ma-re-Mount into the in- 

chaunted castle at riimmouth, and terrified him with the mon- 



ster Briareus " 



71 

vii 



viii CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The Bay Psalm Book 73 

Metrical translation of the psalms defended 73 

"Psalmel" 76 

"PsalmeXIX" 77 

" Psalme XXIII, A psalme of David " 79 

" Psalme XCV " 79 

" Psalme C " 80 

« Psalme CXXI" 81 

/ John Cotton 82 

■N- God's promise to his plantations . 83 

An account of Mrs. Anne Hutchinson ...... 89 

An admonition to Roger Williams . . . . . . -91 

Roger Williams 94 *""' 

The meaning of the parable of the tares . . . . . • 95 '^ 

" The portraiture of the bloudie tenent " ..... 106 

On Christ without and within ........ 109- 

Nathaniel Ward 112 

On toleration of religious opinions , . . . . . .113 

More arguments against toleration .116 

On women's fashions . . . . , . , . .119 
"A word of Ireland" 124 

Thomas Shepard 125 

An interview with Bishop Laud . . . . , . .125 

Questions in Indian meeting 126 

The sentence at the last judgment . . . . . . .128 

On the death of his second wife 132 

; Edw^ard Johnson 134 

" Of the first preparation of the marchant adventurers, in the Mat- 

tachusets" . . . . . . . . . .134 

" Of the voluntary banishment, chosen by this people of Christ, and 

their last farewell taken of their country and friends " . . 136 

" Of the great cheerefulnesse of their souldiers of Christ, in and 

under the penuries of a wildernesse " ..... 140 

The extermination of the Pequots 142 

Anne Bradstreet 146 

" Prologue " 147 

" Of the four ages of man " 149 

" Spring " 150 

The founding of Rome 153 



CONTENTS 



IX 



"Contemplations" .... 
"To my dear and loving husband " 
Longing for heaven 
" Meditations divine and morall " . 

Michael Wigglesworth 
The call to judgment 
The heathen and the infants plead . 
Epilogue to " God's Controversy with New England 

Peter Folger 

A word concerning magistrates and ministers . 

The Burwell Papers 

The siege of Jamestown ..... 
The death of Bacon and the accession of Ingram 

Mary Rowlandson .... 
The beginning of the captivity 
Some incidents of the eighth remove 
The concluding meditation 

Increase Mather „ . 

The power of prayer 

The beginning of King Philip's war 

A bewitched house . 

The probation by cold water 

Increase Mather to Governor Dudley 
Cotton Mather 

Some evidence that Susanna Martin \\ as a witch 

The invisibility of witches 

A temperance exhortation of 1698 . 

The discovery of America 

"The life of Mr. Ralph Partridge" . 

Personal observations of a bewitched child 

Cotton Mather to Governor Dudley 

Samuel Sewall 

Discipline at Harvard College in 1674 

Judge Sewall's petition of penitence 

The events of a month 

A neighborly admonition 

Meditation and prayer 

A love-letter and some visits of courtship 

Scriptural prophecies concerning America 



X CONTENTS 

-_ PAGE 

Ebenezer Cook 252 

The factor's adventures 252 

A bargain with a Quaker 256 

William Byrd 259 

The beginning of the survey 259 

The Great Dismal swamp ........ 261 

Life in North Carolina 266 

On the alligator 270 

Drawing a tooth 271 

John Seccomb 273 

" The last will of Mr. Matthew A y of New-England " . . 274 

Jonathan Edwards 277,':- 

Early religious experiences ........ 278 

On future punishment ......... 281 

The conversion of a child ........ 286 

" Concerning the notion of liberty, and of moral agency " . . 291 ^" 

Thomas Godfrey 295 

"Pastoral" 295 

"Song" 298 

The trials of virtue 299 

John Woolman 305 

The wearing of dyed garments 305 

A sea voyage 3^7 

-Benjamin Franklin 314 

Poor Richard's advice 315 

Ironical advice to Great Britain 319 

Early training 322 

Schemes for self-improvement 3^3 

Franklin's entrance into Philadelphia 327 

Plan for street improvements 330 

"The whistle" 332 

Patrick Henry 335 

Liberty or death 335 

Against a consolidated government 33^ 

Danger of monarchy ......... 340 

Thomas Paine 343 

Reasons for independence 344 

The times that try men's souls 347 



CONTENTS XI 

^•, 

'•> Thomas Jefferson 353 

The framing of the Declaration 354 

" The natural bridge " 356 

P'irst inaugural address 357 

'"-^LEXANDER HAMILTON 362 

4^ The issue stated . 363 

"The Federalist, Number XXIV" 364 

The importance of maintaining public credit ..... 369 

rSJ^RANCIS HOPKINSON 372 

Contemporary history in allegory 373 

" The battle of the kegs " 379 

" An epitaph for an infant " 382 

"Song VI" 382 

"Song VII" 383' 

Mercy Otis Warren 384 

A loyalist dialogue 385 

The necessaries of life ......... 388 

The Boston tea party 389 

The character of Washington 392 

The character of General Lee . .\ 393 

AUoHN Trumbull 395 

Invocation to sleep 396 

Tom Brainless at college . . . * 397 

M'Fingal's accomplishments . 401 

M'Fingal to the Whigs 403 

The combat at the liberty pole 405 

<;., ^Timothy Dwight 409 

"Columbia" 410 

A battle 411 

The village church and the village school . . ". . .415 

The mutabiHty of earthly things 416 

Psalm CXXXVII . 418 

The origin of a name 419 

.Joel Barlow 421 

Independence ; and the coming of war (from the Vision of 

Columbus) .......... 422 

Independence ; and the coming of war (from the ColumbiadJ . 423 

Hymn to Peace .......... 426 

A favorite- dish .......... 428 



xii CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Philip Freneau 431 

A dream-picture .......... 432 

The captain of the hospital ship 434 

The character of Cornwallis 435 

" To the memory of the brave Americans under General Greene, in 

South Carolina, who fell in the action of September 8, 1781 " . 437 
" To Sir Toby, a sugar planter in the interior parts of Jamaica, near 

the city of San Jago de la Vega (Spanish Town), 1784 " . . 438 

•' The wild honey suckle " ........ 440 

"The death song of a Cherokee Indian " ..... 440 

"The Indian burying ground " 441 

" To a dog " 442 

"On the sleep of plants" 443 

" To my book " 444 

" To a caty-did " 445 

"On a honey bee drinking from a glass of ^vine and drowned 

therein" 447 

Minor Poems of the Revolution 449 

" The liberty song " 450 

"Virginia banishing tea" 451 

" The Pennsylvania song " ........ 452 

" The American hero " 453 

"The Yankee's return from camp " ...... 455 

Nathan Hale 457 

"The British light-infantry" 459 

D'Estaing's disaster 460 

" Volunteer boys ".......... 461 

"The dance" 463 

Hugh Henry Brackenridge 466 

An answer to a challenge ........ 466 

Treating with the Indians ........ 467 

Charles Brockden Brown 475 

A mysterious warning ......... 476 

An incident of the yellow fever panic in Philadelphia . . . 482 

An adventure in the wilderness ....... 488 



SELECTIONS FROM 

EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

I 607-1 800 



JOHN SMITH 

[Captain John Smith was born in Willoughby, Lincolnshire, in 1580 
(1579, O.S.). He was apprenticed to a merchant, but, finding a life of trade 
too tame, he ran away at the age of fifteen and became a soldier of fortune. 
During the next ten or eleven years he visited, if we may trust his own ac- 
count, most parts of Europe where adventures might be found, and fought 

"As wel in Christendom as in hethenesse." 

In 1605 he was again in England, and a year and a half later he went out 
with the colonists who finally landed at Jamestown. Here he appears, both 
in his own accounts and in those of his fellow-colonists, as a rough-and- 
ready, energetic man, always in trouble, but probably the most practical 
and capable manager in the new settlement. He remained in Virginia until 
1609, when he returned to England. In 1614 he made a voyage of ex- 
ploration to the coast of New England ; and the next year he started for that 
region with a colonizing party, but was captured and imprisoned by the 
French. After his release he lived quietly in England until his death in 
1631. 

While he was in Virginia Captain Smith wrote only two works of im- 
portance. The first was very likely begun soon after the colonists landed in 
1607, and was sent to England early in 1608. It was published the same 
year under the title of "A True Relation of such occurrences and accidents 
of noate as hath hapned in Virginia since the first planting of that Collony, 
which is now resident in the South part thereof, till the last returne from 
thence." The second work, "A Map of Virginia, with a Description of the 
Countrey the Commodities, People, Government and Religion," was prob- 
ably sent to England a few months later than the "True Relation" but was 
not published until 1612. At the same time with the "Map of Virginia," 
Captain Smith sent an interesting and outspoken letter in reply to the demands 
of the proprietors for money from the colony. After his return to England 
he wrote a number of works, among the more important of which were "A 
Description of New England" (1616), "New Englands Trials" (1620-22), 
"The General Historic of Virginia" (1624), "The True Travels, Adven- 
tures, and Observations of Captaine John Smith" (1630). In strictness 
only the "True Relation " and the "Map of Virginia" have a place in a col- 
lection of American writings, but brief selections from "A Description of 
New England" and the "True Travels" are given in the following pages 
for the sake of comparison. 



2 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

Much of the criticism of Smith's writings has taken the form of discus- 
sions regarding his veracity. Some of the early exploits narrated in the 
"True Travels" are so marvellous as to seem improbable. Many of the 
statements in the writings on Virginia are corroborated by the independent 
testimony of others; but circumstantial evidence seems to discredit the 
familiar story of his rescue by Pocahontas. In his earlier accounts of his 
visit to Powhatan, Smith speaks of that chieftain as uniformly friendly, and 
refers, incidentally, to Pocahontas as a mere child. It was not till the Indian 
" princess," as the wife of John Rolfe, was attracting attention in London, 
while Smith was living in comparative obscurity, that he linked his name 
with hers in the anecdote that has become famous. In many cases no 
positive proof or disproof of Smith's statements is possible. But, though 
Mr. Edward Arber, the conscientious editor of all his writings, believes in 
his absolute truthfulness, it seems probable that in his later years he availed 
himself of the soldier's and traveller's privilege and magnified his own 
exploits. 

The first American writer was typical of those Elizabethan Englishmen 
who were primarily men of action, and incidentally men of letters. The 
"True Relation" and the "Map of Virginia" were in no sense works of 
literature, but simply businesslike reports of the doings of the colonists, 
and descriptions of the country that they had found. The former was 
probably written for the information of the proprietors, with no thought of 
its publication. Some of the later works were undertaken with a less im- 
mediate practical aim. There is no evidence that the author had ever 
tried to write before he came to Jamestown, and the style of the "True 
Relation" indicates that it is the work of a novice in the art. Even the 
"Map of Virginia," written only a few months later, shows a decided ad- 
vance in style; and some of the later works, produced with greater leisure 
and after more practice, have in passages here and there the sonorous effec- 
tiveness of the better Elizabethan prose. 

The selections here given are from the complete edition of Smith's writ- 
ings edited by Edward Arber. Except for changes in paragraphing and 
occasionally in punctuation, the text is that of the first editions of the re- 
spective works.] 

THE BEGINNINGS OF JAMESTOWN 

[From the "True Relation," etc.] 

Kinde Sir, commendations remembred, &c. You shall under- 
stand that after many crosses in the downes by tempests, wee 
arrived safely uppon the Southwest part of the great Canaries : 
within foure or five dales after we set saile for Dominica, the 26. 
of Aprill : the first land we made, wee fell with Cape Henry, the 
verie mouth of the Bay of Chissiapiacke, which at that present 



JOHN SMITH 3 

we little expected, having by a cruell storme bene put to the 
Northward : 

Anchoring in this Bay twentie or thirtie went a shore with the 
Captain, and in comming aboard, they were assalted with certaine 
Indians, which charged them within Pistoll shot : in which conflict, 
Captaine Archer and Mathew Morton were shot: wherupon Cap- 
taine Newport seconding them, made a shot at them, which the 
Indians little respected, but having spent their arrowes retyred 
without harme. And in that place was the Box opened, wherin 
the Counsell for Virginia was nominated : and arriving at the place 
where wee are now seated, the Counsell was sworn, and the Presi- 
dent elected, which for that yeare was Maister Edm. Maria Wing- 
field, where was made choice for our scituation, a verie fit place 
for the erecting of a great cittie, about which some contention 
passed betwixt Captaine Wing field and Captaine Gosnold: not- 
withstanding, all our provision was brought a shore, and vdth as 
much speede as might bee wee went about our fortification. 

The two and twenty day of Aprill, Captain Newport and my 
selfe with divers others, to the number of twenty two persons, 
set forward to discover" the River, some fiftie or sixtie miles, find- 
ing it in some places broader, and in some narrower, the Countrie 
(for the moste part) on each side plaine high ground, with many 
fresh Springes, the people in all places kindely intreating us, 
daunsing and feasting us with strawberries. Mulberries, Bread, 
Fish, and other their Countrie provisions wherof we had plenty: 
for which Captaine Newport kindely requited their least favours 
with Bels, Pinnes, Needles, beades, or Glasses, which so contented 
them that his liberallitie made them follow us from place to place, 
and ever kindely to respect us. In the midway staying to refresh 
our selves in a little He, foure or five savages came unto us which 
described unto us the course of the River, and after in our journey, 
they often met us, trading with us for such provision as wee had, 
and ariving at Arsatecke, hee whom we supposed to bee the chief e 
King of all the rest, moste kindely entertained us, giving us in 
a guide to go with us up the River to Powhatan, of which place 
their great Emperor taketh his name, where he that they honored 
for King used us kindely. But to finish this discoverie, we passed 
on further, where within a mile we were intercepted with great 



4 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

craggy stones in the midst of the river, where the water falleth 
so rudely, and with such a violence, as not any boat can possibly 
passe, and so broad disperseth the streame, as there is not past 
five or sixe Foote at a low water, and to the shore scarce passage 
with a barge, the water floweth foure foote, and the freshes by 
reason of the Rockes have left markes of the inundations 8. or 
9. foote: The south side is plaine low ground, and the north side 
high mountaines, the rockes being of a gravelly nature, interlaced 
with many vains of ghstring spangles. 

That night we returned to Powhatan: the next day (being Whit- 
sunday after dinner) we returned to the fals, leaving a mariner 
in pawn with the Indians for a guide of theirs, hee that they hon- 
oured for King followed us by the river. That afternoone we 
trifled in looking upon the Rockes and river (further he would 
not goe) so there we erected a crosse, and that night taking our 
man at Powhatans, Captaine Newport congratulated his kindenes 
with a Gown and a Hatchet: returning to Arsetecke, and stayed 
there the next day to observe the height therof, and so with many 
signes of love we departed. / 

AN ADVENTURE WITH THE INDIANS 

[From the "True Relation"] 

Having 2 Indians for my guide and 2 of our own company, I 
set forward, leaving 7 in the barge : 

Having discovered 20 miles further in this desart, the river stil 
kept his depth and bredth, but much more combred with trees: 

Here we went ashore (being some 12 miles higher then the barge 
had bene) to refresh our selves, during the boyling of our vituals : 
One of the Indians I tooke with me, to see the nature of the soile, 
and to crosse the bough ts of the river : the other Indian I left with 
Maister Robbinson and Thomas Emry, with their matches lighted, 
and order to discharge a peece, for my retreat, at the first sight of 
any Indian. 

But within a quarter of a houre I heard a loud cry, and a 
hollowing of Indians, but no warning peece. Supposing them 
surprised, and that the Indians had betraid us, presently I seazed 



JOHN SMITH 5 

him and bound his arme fast to my hand in a garter, with my 
pistoll ready bent to be revenged on him: he advised me to fly, 
and seemed ignorant of what was done. 

But as we went discoursing, I was struck with an arrow on 
the right thigh, but without harme: upon this occasion I espied 
2. Indians drawing their bowes, which I prevented in discharg- 
ing a french pistoll: 

By that I had charged againe, 3 or 4 more did the like: for 
the first fell downe and fled: At my discharge, they did the like. 
My hinde I made my barricado, who offered not to strive. 20. or 
30. arrowes were shot at me but short. 3 or 4 times I had dis- 
charged my pistoll ere the king of Pamaunck called Opeckanke- 
nough with 200 men, invironed me, eache drawing their bowe: 
which done they laid them upon the ground, yet without shot: 

My hinde treated betwixt them and me of conditions of peace ; 
he discovred me to be the Captaine: my request was to retire to 
the boate : they demaunded my armes, the rest they saide were 
slaine, oncly me they would reserve: 

The Indiap importurjed me not to shoot. In retiring being in. 
the midst of a low quagmire, and minding them more than my 
steps, I stept fast into the quagmire, and also the Indian in draw- 
ing me forth : 

Thus surprised, I resolved to trie their mercies: my armes I 
caste from me, till which none durst approch me. 

Being ceazed on me, they drew me out and led me to the King. 
I presented him with a compasse diall, describing by my best 
meanes the use therof: whereat he so amazedly admired, as he 
suffered me to proceed in a discourse of the roundijes of the earth, 
the course of the sunne, moone, starres and plannets. 

Wi^h kinde speeches and bread he requited me, conducting me 
where the Canow lay and John Rohbinson slaine, with 20 or 30. 
arrowes in him. Emry I §aw not. . 

I perceived by the aboundance of fires all over the woods,* At 
each place I expected when .they would execute me, yet they 
used me with what kindnes they could : 

Approaching their Towne, which was within 6 miles where I 

[' The text is unintclliRiblc here. Arber supplies some such expression as 
"that they were a party hunting deer."] 



6 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

was taken, onely made as arbors and covered with mats, which 
they remove as occasion requires: all the women and children, 
being advertised of this accident, came foorth to meet them, the 
King well guarded with 20 bowmen 5 flanck and rear, and each 
flanck before him a sword and a peece, and after him the like, 
then a bowman, then I on each hand a boweman, the rest in 
file in the reare, which reare led foorth a mongst the trees in a 
bishion, eache his bowe and a handfull of arrowes, a quiver at 
his back grimly painted : on eache flanck a sargeant, the one run- 
ning alwaies towards the front, the other towards the reare, each 
a true pace and in exceeding good order. 

This being a good time continued, they caste themselves in a 
ring with a daunce, and so eache man departed to his lodging. 

The Captain conducting me to his lodging, a quarter of Veni- 
son and some ten pound of bread I had for supper: what I left 
was reserved for me, and sent with me to my lodging : 

Each, morning 3. women presented me three great platters of 
fine bread, more venison than ten men could devour I had: my 
gowne, points and garters, my compas and my tablet they gave 
me again. Though 8 ordinarily guarded me, I wanted not what 
they could devise to content me : and still our longer acquaintance 
increased ouji^better affections- 
Much they threatned to assault our forte, as they were solicited 
by the King of Paspahegh: who shewed at our fort great signes 
of sorrow for this mischance. The King tooke great delight in 
understanding the manner of our ships, and sayling the seas, the 
earth and skies, and of our God : what he knew of the dominions 
he spared not to acquaint me with, as of certaine men cloathed 
at a place called Ocanahonan, cloathed like me : the course of our 
river, and that within 4 or 5 dales journey of the falles, was a 
great turning of salt water: 

I desired he would send a messenger to Paspahegh, with a letter 
I would write, by which they shold understand how kindly they 
used me, and that I was well, least they should revenge my death.- 
This he granted and sent three men, in such weather as in reason 
were unpossible by any naked to be indured. Their cruell 
mindes towards the fort I had deverted, in describing the ordi- 
nance and the mines in the fields, as also the revenge Captain 



JOHN SMITH 7 

Newport would take of them at his. returne. Their intent, I in- 
certed the fort, the people of Ocanahoniim and the back sea : this 
report they after found divers Indians that confirmed : 

The next day after my letter, came a salvage to my lodging, 
with his sword, to have slaine me : but being by my guard inter- 
cepted, with a bowe and arrow he offred to have effected his pur- 
pose: the cause I knew not, till the King understanding thereof 
came and told me of a man a dying, wounded with my pistoll: 
he tould me also of another I had slayne, yet the most concealed 
they had any hurte: This was the father of him I had slayne, 
whose fury to prevent, the King presently conducted me to an- 
other Kingdome, upon the top of the next northerly river, called 
Youghta7ian. 

Having feasted me he further led me to another branch of the 
river, called Mattapament; to two other hunting townes they led 
me: and to each of these Countries, a house of the great Em- 
perour of Peivhakan, whom as yet I supposed to bee at the Fals; 
to him I tolde him I must goe, and so returne to Paspahegh. 

After this foure or five dayes march, we returned to Rasawrack, 
the first towne they brought me too : where binding the Mats in 
bundels, they marched two dayes journey, and crossed the River 
of Youghtanan, where it was as broad as Thames : so conducting 
me to a place called Menapacute in Pamatmke, where the King 
inhabited. 

The next day another King of that nation called Kekataugh, 
having received some kindnes of me at the Fort, kindly invited 
me to feast at his house, the people from all places flocked to see 
me, each shewing to content me. 

By this, the great King hath foure or five houses, each contain- 
ing fourescore or an hundred foote in length, pleasantly seated 
upon an high sandy hill, from whence you may see westerly a 
goodly low Country, the river before the which his crooked course 
causeth many great Marshes of exceeding good ground. An 
hundred houses, and many large plaines are here togither in- 
habited. More abundance of fish and fowle, and a pleasanter 
seat cannot be imagined. The King with fortie Bowmen to 
guard me, intreated me to discharge my Pistoll, which they there 
presented me, with a mark at six score to strike therwith : but to 



8 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

spoil the practise, I broke the cocke, whereat they were much 
discontented, though a chaunce supposed. 

From hence, this kind King conducted mee to a place called 
Topahanocke, a kingdome upon another River northward: The 
cause of this was, that the yeare before, a shippe had beene in 
the River of Pamaunke, who having beene kindly entertained by 
Powhatan their Emperour, they returned thence and discovered 
the River of Topahanocke: where being received with Uke kind- 
nesse, yet he slue the King, and tooke of his people, and they 
supposed I were hee. But the people reported him a great man 
that was Captaine, and using mee kindly, the next day we de- 
parted. 

This River of Topahanock seemeth in breadth not much lesse 
then that we dwell upon. At the mouth of the River is a Coun- 
trey called CtUtata women: upwards is Marraugh tacum, Tapo- 
hanock, Appamatuck, and Nantaugs tacum: at Topmanahocks, 
the head issuing from many Mountaines. 

The next night I lodged at a hunting town of Powhatams, and 
the next day arrived at Waranacomoco upon the river of Pa- 
mauncke, where the great king is resident. By the way we passed 
by the top of another little river, which is betwixt the two, 
called Payankatank. The most of this Country though Desert, 
yet exceeding fertil ; good timber, most hils and dales, in each 
valley a cristall spring. 

Arriving at Weramocomoco, their Emperour proudly lying uppon 
a Bedstead a foote high, upon tenne or twelve Mattes, richly 
hung with manie Chaynes of great Pearles about his necke, and 
covered with a great Covering of Rahaughcums. At heade sat a 
woman, at his feete another; on each side sitting uppon a Matte 
uppon the ground, were raunged his chiefe men on each side the 
fire, tenne in a ranke, and behinde them as many yong women, 
each a great Chaine of white Beades over their shoulders, their 
heades painted in redde : and with such a grave and Majesticall 
countenance, as drave me into admiration to see such state in a 
naked Salvage. 

Hee kindly welcomed me with good wordes, and great 
Platters of sundrie Victuals, assuring mee his friendship, and 
my libertie within foure days. Hee much delighted in Opechan 



JOHN SMITH 9 

Comoughs relation of what I had described to him, and oft ex- 
amined me upon the same. 

Hee asked mee the cause of our comming. 

I tolde him being in fight with the Spaniards our enimie, beeing 
overpowred, neare put to retreat, and by extreame weather put 
to this shore: where landing at Chesipiack, the people shot us, 
but at Kequoughtan they kindly used us : we by signes demaunded 
fresh water, they described us up the River was all fresh water: 
at Paspakegh also they kindly used us: our Pinnasse being 
leake, we were inforced to stay to mend her, till Captaine New- 
port my father came to conduct us away. 

He demaunded why we went further with our Boate. I tolde 
him, in that I would have occasion to talk of the backe Sea, that 
on the other side the maine, where was salt water. My father 
had a childe slaine, whiche wee supposed Monocan his enemie: 
whose death we intended to revenge. 

After good deliberation, hee began to describe mee the Coun- 
treys beyonde the Falles, with many of the rest ; confirming what 
not onely Opechancanoyes, and an Indian which had beene 
prisoner to Pewhatan had before tolde mee: but some called it 
five dayes, some sixe, some eight, where the sayde water dashed 
amongest many stones and rockes, each storm ; which caused oft 
tymes the heade of the River to bee brackish : 

Anchanachuck he described to bee the people that had slaine 
my brother: whose death hee would revenge. Hee described 
also upon the same Sea, a mighty Nation called Pocoughtronack, 
a fierce Nation that did eate men, and warred with the people of 
Moyaoncer and Paiaromerke, Nations upon the toppe of the heade 
of the Bay, under his territories: where the yeare before they 
had slain an hundred. He signified their crownes were shaven, 
long haire in the necke, tied on a knot. Swords like PoUaxes. 

Beyond them he described people with short Coates, and 
Sleeves to the Elbowes, that passed that way in Shippes Uke 
ours. Many Kingdomes hee described mee, to the heade of the 
Bay, which seemed to bee a mightie River issuing from mightie 
Mountaines betwixt the two Seas : The people cloathed at Oca- 
mahowan, he also confirmed; and the Southerly Countries also, 
as the rest that reported us to be within a day and a halfe of 



lO EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

Mangoge, two dayes of Chawwonock, 6. from Roonock, to the 
south part of the backe sea: He described a countrie called 
Anone, where they have abundance of Brasse, and houses walled 
as ours. 

I requited his discourse (seeing what pride hee had in his great 
and spacious Dominions, seeing that all hee knewe were under 
his Territories) in describing to him, the territories of Europe, 
which was subject to our great King whose subject I was, the 
innumerable multitude of his ships, I gave him to understand 
the noyse of Trumpets, and terrible manner of fighting were 
under captain Newport my father: whom I intituled the Me- 
worames, which they call the King of all the waters. At his 
greatnesse, he admired : and not a little feared. He desired mee 
to forsake Paspahegh, and to live with him upon his River, a 
Countrie called Capa Howasicke. Hee promised to give me 
Corne, Venison, or what I wanted to feede us: Hatchets and 
Copper wee should make him, and none should disturbe us. 

This request I promised to performe: and thus, having with 
all the kindnes hee could devise, sought to content me, hee sent 
me home, with 4. men: one that usually carried my Gowne and 
Knapsacke after me, two other loded with bread, and one to 
accompanie me. 

THE RELIGIOUS OBSERVANCES OF THE INDIANS 

[From "A Map of Virginia"] 

There is yet in Virginia no place discovered to bee so Savage 
in which the Savages have not a religion, Deare, and Bow and 
Arrowes. All thinges that were able to do them hurt beyond 
their prevention, they adore with their kinde of divine worship; 
as the fire, water, lightning, thunder, our ordinance, peeces, 
horses, &c. 

But their chiefe God they worship is the Divell. Him they call 
Oke and serve him more of feare than love. They say they have 
conference with him, and fashion themselves as neare to his 
shape as they can imagine. In their Temples they have his 
image evill favouredly carved, and then painted and adorned 



JOHN SMITH II 

with chaines, copper, and beades; and covered with a skin, in 
such manner as the deformity may well suit with such a God. 

By him is commonly the sepulcher of their kings. Their 
bodies are first bowelled, then dryed upon hurdles till they bee 
verie dry, and so about the most of their jointes and necke they 
hang bracelets or chaines of copper, pearle, and such like, as 
they use to weare: their inwards they stuffe with copper beads 
and cover with a skin, hatchets, and such trash. Then lappe 
they them very carefully in white skins, and so rowle them in 
mats for their winding sheetes. And in the Tombe, which is an 
arch made of mats, they lay them orderly. What remaineth of 
this kinde of wealth their kings have, they set at their feet in 
baskets. These Temples and bodies are kept by their Priests. 

For their ordinary burials, they digge a deep hole in the earth 
with sharpe stakes; and the corpes being lapped in skins and 
mats with their jewels, they lay them upon sticks in the ground, 
and so cover them with earth. The buriall ended, the women 
being painted all their faces with black cole and oile, doe sit 24 
howers in the houses mourning and lamenting by turnes, with 
such yelling and howling as may expresse their great passions. 

In every Territory of a werowance is a Temple and a Priest 2 
or 3 or more. Their principall Temple or place of superstition 
is at Uttamiissack at Patiiaunke, neare unto which is a house 
Temple or place of Powhatans. 

Upon the top of certaine redde sandy hils in the woods, there 
are 3 great houses filled with images of their kings and Divels 
and Tombes of their Predecessors. Those houses are neare 60 
foot in length, built arbor wise, after their building. This place 
they count so holy as that none but the Priestes and kings dare 
come into them: nor the Savages dare not go up the river in 
boats by it, but that they solemnly cast some peece of copper, 
white beads, or Pocones into the river, for feare their Oke should 
be offended and revenged of them. 

In this place commonly is resident 7 Priests. The chiefe 
differed from the rest in his ornaments : but inferior Priests could 
hardly be knowne from the common people, but that they had 
not so many holes in their eares to hang their jewels at. 

The ornaments of the chiefe Priest was certain attires for his 



12 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

head made thus. They tooke a dosen or i6 or more snake skins, 
and stuffed them with mosse; and of weesels and other vermine 
skins, a good many. All these they tie by their tailes, so as all 
their tailes meete in the toppe of their head, like a great Tassell. 
Round about this Tassell is as it were a crown of feathers; the 
skins hang round about his head necke and shoulders, and in a 
manner cover his face. 

The faces of all their Priests are painted as ugly as they can 
devise. In their hands, they had every one his Rattell, some 
base, some smaller. Their devotion was most in songs which 
the chief e Priest beginneth and the rest followed him: some- 
times he maketh invocations with broken sentences, by starts 
and strange passions, and at every pause, the rest give a short 
groane. 

It could not bee perceived that they keepe any day as more 
holy then other: but only in some great distresse, of want, feare 
of enimies, times of triumph and gathering togither their fruits, 
the whole country of men women and children come togither to 
solemnities. The manner of their devotion is sometimes to make 
a great fire in the house or fields, and all to sing and dance about 
it, with rattles and shouts togither, 4 or 5 houres. Sometimes 
they set a man in the midst, and about him they dance and sing ; 
he all the while clapping his hands as if he would keepe time. 
And after their songs and dauncings ended, they goe to their 
Feasts. 

They have also divers conjurations. One they made when 
Captaine Smith was their prisoner; (as they reported) to know 
if any more of his countrymen would arrive there, and what he 
there intended. The manner of it was thus. 

First they made a faire fire in a house. About this fire set 7 
Priests setting him by them; and about the fire, they made a 
circle of meale. That done, the chiefe Priest attired as is ex- 
pressed, began to shake his rattle; and the rest followed him in 
his song. At the end of the song, he laid downe 5 or 3 graines 
of wheat, and so continued counting his songs by the graines, 
till 3 times they incirculed the fire. Then they divide the graines 
by certaine numbers with little stickes, laying downe at the ende 
of every song a little sticke. 



JOHN SMITH 



13 



In this manner, they sat 8, 10, or 12 houres without cease, with 
such strange stretching of their armes, and violent passions and 
gestures as might well seeme strange to him they so conjured; 
who but every houre expected his end. Not any meat they did 
eat till, late in the evening, they had finished this worke: and 
then they feasted him and themselves with much mirth. But 3 
or 4 dales they continued this ceremony. 

They have also certaine Altar stones they call Pawcorances : 
but these stand from their Temples, some by their houses, other 
in the woodes and wildernesses. Upon these, they offer blood, 
deare suet, and Tobacco. These they doe when they returne 
from the warres, from hunting, and upon many other occasions. 

They have also another superstition that they use in stormes, 
when the waters are rough in the rivers and sea coasts. Their 
Conjurers runne to the water sides, or passing in their boats, 
after many hellish outcries and invocations, they cast Tobacco, 
Copper, Pocones, and such trash into the water, to pacifie that 
God whome they thinlce to be very angry in those stormes. 

Before their dinners and suppers, the better sort will take the 
first bit, and cast it in the fire; which is all the grace they are 
known to use. 

In some part of the Country, they have yearely a sacrifice of 
children. Such a one was at Qidyoughcohanock, some 10 miles 
from James Towne, and thus performed. 

Fifteene of the properest young boyes, betweene 10 and 15 
yeares of age, they painted white. Having brought them forth, 
the people spent the forenoone in dancing and singing about 
them with rattles. 

In the afternoone, they put those children to the roote of a 
tree. By them, all the men stood in a guard, every one having 
a Bastinado in his hand, made of reeds bound together. This 
made a lane betweene them all along, through which there were 
appointed 5 young men to fetch these children. So every one of 
the five went through the guard, to fetch a child, each after other 
by turnes: the guard fearelessly beating them with their Bas- 
tinadoes, and they patiently enduring and receaving all; defend- 
ing the children with their naked bodies from the unmercifull 
blowes they pay them soundly, though the children escape. All 



14 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

this while, the women weepe and crie out very passionately; 
providing mats, skinnes, mosse, and drie wood, as things fitting 
their childrens funerals. 

After the children were thus passed the guard, the guard tore 
down the tree, branches and boughs, with such violence, that 
they rent the body, and made wreathes for their- heads, or be- 
decked their haire with the leaves. What else was done with 
the children was not scene; but they were all cast on a heape in 
a valley, as dead: where they made a great feast for al the com- 
pany. 

The Werowance being demanded the meaning of this sacrifice, 
answered that the children were not al dead, but that the Oke or 
Divell did sucke the blood from their left breast, who chanced to 
be his by lot, till they were dead. But the rest were kept in the 
wildernesse by the yong men till nine moneths were expired, 
during which time they must not converse with any: and of 
these were made their Priests and Conjurers. 

This sacrifice they held to bee so necessarie, that if they should 
omit it, their Oke or Divel and all their other Quiyoughcosughes 
(which are their other Gods) would let them have no Deare, 
Turkies, Corne, nor fish : and yet besides, hee would make great 
slaughter amongst them. 

They thinke that their Werowances and Priestes, which they 
also esteeme Quiyoughcosughes, when they are dead, doe goe 
beyound the mountaines towardes the setting of the sun, and 
ever remaine there in forme of their Oke, with their heads painted 
with oile and Pocones, finely trimmed with feathers; and shal 
have beades, hatchets, copper, and tobacco, doing nothing but 
dance and sing with all their Predecessors. 

But the common people, they suppose shall not live after death. 

ON COLONIZATION 

[From "A Description of New England"] 

Who can desire more content, that hath small meanes; or but 
only his merit to advance his fortune, then to tread, and plant 
that ground hee hath purchased by the hazard of his life? If 



JOHN SMITH 15 

he have but the taste of virtue and magnanimitie, what to such 
a minde can bee more pleasant, then planting and building a 
foundation for his Posteritie, gotte from the rude earth, by Gods 
blessing and his owne Industrie, without prejudice to any? if 
hee have any graine of faith or zeale in Religion, what can hee 
doe lesse hurtfuU to any: or more agreeable to God then to seeke 
to convert those poore Salvages to know Christ, and humanitie, 
whose labors with discretion will tripple requite thy charge and 
paines? What so truely sutes with honour and honestie, as the 
discovering things unknowne? erecting Townes, peopling Coun- 
tries, informing the ignorant, reforming things unjust, teaching 
virtue; and gaine to our Native mother-countrie a kingdom to 
attend her; finde imployment for those that are idle, because 
they know not what to doe: so farre from wronging any, as to 
cause Posteritie to remember thee; and remembering thee, ever 
honour that remembrance with praise? 

Consider : What were the beginnings and endings of the Monar- 
kies of the Chaldeans, the Syrians, the Grecians, and Romanes, 
but this one rule; What was it they would not doe, for the good 
of the commonwealth, or their Mother-citie ? For example: 
Rome, what made her such a Monarchesse, but onely the adven- 
tures of her youth, not in riots at home; but in dangers abroade? 
and the justice and judgement out of their experience, when they 
grewe aged. What was their ruine and hurt, but this; The 
excesse of idlenesse, the fondnesse of Parents, the want of experi- 
ence in Magistrates, the admiration of their undeserved honours, 
the contempt of true merit, their unjust jealosies, their pohticke 
incredulities, their hypocriticall seeming goodnesse, and their 
deeds of secret lewdnesse? finally, in fine, growing onely formall 
temporists, all that their predecessors got in many years, they 
lost in a few dales. Those by their pain and vertues became 
Lords of the world; they by their ease and vices became slaves 
to their servants. This is the difference betwixt the use of Armes 
in the field, and on the monuments of stones; the golden age and 
the leaden age, prosperity and miserie, justice and corruption, 
substance and shadowes, words and deeds, experience and imagi- 
nation, making Commonwealths and marring Commonwealths, the 
fruits of vertue and the conclusions of vice. 



1 6 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

Then, who would live at home idly (or thinke in himselfe any 
worth to live) onely to eate, drink, and sleepe, and so die? Or 
by consuming that carelesly, his friends got worthily? Or by 
using that miserably, that maintained vertue honestly? Or for 
being descended nobly, pine with the vaine vaunt of great kindred, 
in penurie? Or (to maintaine a silly shewe of bravery) toyle 
out thy heart, soule, and time, basely; by shifts, tricks, cards, 
and dice? Or by relating newes of others actions, sharke here 
or there for a dinner, or supper; deceive thy friends, by faire 
promises and dissimulation, in borrowing where thou never in- 
tendest to pay; offend the lawes, surfeit with excesse, burden 
thy Country, abuse thy selfe, despaire in want, and then couzen 
thy kindred, yea even thine owne brother, and vidsh thy parents 
death (I will not say damnation) to have their estates? though 
thou seest what honours, and rewards, the world yet hath for 
them mil seeke them and worthily deserve them. 

A DIVERSION FOR THE LADIES 

[From "The True Travails, Adventures, and Observations of Captain John 

Smith"] 

Which slow proceedings the Tiirkes oft derided, that the Ord- 
nance were at pawne, and how they grew fat for want of exercise ; 
and fearing lest they should depart ere they could assault their 
Citie, sent this Challenge to any Captaine in the Armie. 

That to delight the Ladies, who did long to see some court- 
like pastime, the Lord Turbashaw did defie any Captaine, that 
had the command of a Company, who durst combate with him 
for his head. 

The matter being discussed, it was accepted; but so many 
questions grew for the undertaking, it was decided by lots : which 
fell upon Captaine Smith, before spoken of. 

Truce being made for that time, the Rampiers all beset with 
faire Dames, and men in Armes, the Christians in Battalia; Tur- 
bashaw with a noise of Howboyes entred the fields well mounted 
and armed; on his shoulders were fixed a paire of great wings, 
compacted of Eagles feathers within a ridge of silver, richly gar^ 



JOHN SMITH 17 

nished with gold and precious stones; a Janizary before him, 
bearing his Lance; on each side, another leading his horse: 
where long hee stayed not, ere Smith with a noise of Trumpets, 
only a Page bearing his Lance, passing by him with a courteous 
salute, tooke his ground with such good successe, that at the 
sound of the charge, he passed the Turke throw the sight of his 
Beaver, face, head, and all, that he fell dead to the ground; 
where alighting and unbracing his Helmet, cut off his head, and 
the Turkes tooke his body; and so returned without any hurt 
at all. 

The head hee presented to the Lord Moses, the Generall, who 
kindly accepted it; and with joy to the whole armie he was 
generally welcomed. 

The death of this Captaine so swelled in the heart of one Gric- 
algo, his vowed friend, as, rather inraged with madnesse than 
choller, he directed a particular challenge to the Conqueror, to 
regaine his friends head, or lose his owne, with his horse and 
Armour for advantage: which according to his desire, was the 
next day undertaken. 

As before, upon the sound of the Trumpets, their Lances flew 
in peeces upon a cleare passage; but the Turke was neere un- 
horsed. Their PistoUs was the next, which marked Smith upon 
the placard ; but the next shot the Turke was so wounded in the 
left arme, that being not able to rule his horse, and defend him- 
selfe, he was throwne to the ground; and so bruised with the 
fall, that he lost his head, as his friend before him; with his 
horse and Armour: but his body and his rich apparell was sent 
backe to the Towne. 

Every day the Turkes made some sallies, but few skirmishes 
would they endure to any purpose. Our workes and approaches 
being not yet advanced to that height and effect which was of 
necessitie to be performed; to delude time, Smith, with so many 
incontradictible perswading reasons, obtained leave that the 
Ladies might know he was not so much enamoured of their 
servants heads, but if any Turke of their ranke would come to 
the place of combate to redeeme them, should have his also upon 
the like conditions, if he could winne it. 

The challenge presently was accepted by Bonny Mulgro. 



l8 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

The next day both the champions entring the field as before, 
each discharging their Pistoll (having no Lances, but such mar- 
tiall weapons as the defendant appointed), no hurt was done; their 
Battle-axes was the next, whose piercing bils made sometime the 
one, sometime the other to have scarce sense to keepe their 
saddles: specially the Christian received such a blow that he 
lost his Battle-axe, and failed not much to have fallen after it; 
whereat the supposing conquering Ttirk, had a great shout from 
the Rampiers. The Turk prosecuted his advantage to the utter- 
most of his power; yet the other, what by the readinesse of his 
horse, and his judgement and dexterity in such a businesse, be- 
yond all mens expectation, by Gods assistance, not onely avoided 
the Turkes violence, but having drawne his Faulchion, pierced 
the Turke so under the Culets thorow backe and body, that al- 
though he alighted from his horse, he stood not long ere hee lost 
his head, as the rest had done. 



WILLIAM STRACHEY 

[Little is known of William Strachey except that he accompanied Sir 
Thomas Gates on his unfortunate expedition to Virginia in 1609, and served 
as secretary of the colony for about three years. The ship bearing Gates 
and Strachey was separated from the rest of the fleet and wrecked on the 
Bermudas, from which the survivors escaped to Jamestown nearly a year 
later. Strachey's chief work written while he was in America is an account 
of these and subsequent experiences, which he sent to London in 1610, and 
which was published in "Purchas His Pilgrimes" under the title of "A true 
reportory of the wracke, and redemption of Sir Thomas Gates Knight; upon, 
and from the Hands of the Bermudas: his comming to Virginia, and the 
estate of that Colonic then, and after, under the government of the Lord La 
Warre." As secretary he compiled for the colony "Lawes Divine, Morall, 
and Martiall," published in London in 161 2; and after his return to Eng- 
land he wrote "The Historic of Travaile into Virginia Brittania," which 
remained in manuscript until 1849. 

William Strachey was evidently a man of education who had seen some- 
thing of the world. His writings are, however, very uneven, and it is only 
when he is inspired by his subject that he attains any distinction of style. 
That he is remembered above his contemporaries is due in part to the fact 
that the powerful description of a storm, given in the following pages, has 
been supposed by some critics to have given Shakespeare suggestions for 
"The Tempest." The evidence on this point is purely circumstantial, and 
unless new facts are brought to light, it will always be impossible to reach 
a definite conclusion. An impartial statement of the case may be found in 
Furness's Variorum edition of "The Tempest." 

The text which follows is from "Purchas His Pilgrimes," London, 1625, 
reprinted Glasgow, 1906.] 

A STORM AND A SHIPWRECK 

[From "The Wrack and Redemption of Sir Thomas Gates"] 

Excellent Lady, know that upon Friday late in the evening, 
we brake ground out of the Sound of Plymouth, our whole 
Fleete then consisting of seven good Ships, and two Pinnaces, 
all which from the said second of June, unto the twenty three of 
July, kept in friendly consort together, not a whole watch at any 
time loosing the sight each of other. Our course when we came 
about the height of betweene 26. and 27. degrees, we declined 

19 



20 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

to the Northward, and according to our Governours instructions 
altered the trade and ordinary way used heretofore by Dominico, 
and Mevis, in the West Indies, and found the winde to this course 
indeede as friendly, as in the judgement of all Sea-men, it is upon 
a more direct line, and by Sir George Summers our Admirall had 
bin likewise in former time sailed, being a Gentleman of ap- 
proved assurednesse, and ready knowledge in Sea-faring actions, 
having often carried command, and chiefe charge in many Ships 
Royall of her Majesties, and in sundry Voyages made many de- 
feats and attempts in the time of the Spaniards quarrelling with 
us, upon the Hands and Indies, &c. We had followed this 
course so long, as now we were within seven or eight dayes at 
the most, by Cap. Newports reckoning of making Cape Henry 
upon the coast of Virginia: When on S. James his day, July 24. 
being Monday (preparing for no lesse all the blacke night before) 
the cloudes gathering thicke upon us,' and the windes singing, 
and whistling most unusually, which made us to cast ofif our 
Pinnace, towing the same untill then asterne, a dreadfull storme 
and hideous began to blow from out the North-east, which swell- 
ing, and roaring as it were by fits, some houres with more vio- 
lence then others, at length did beate all light from heaven; 
which like an hell of darknesse turned blacke upon us, so much 
the more fuller of horror, as in such cases horror and feare 
use to overrunne the troubled, and overmastered sences of all, 
which (taken up with amazement) the eares lay so sensible to 
the terrible cries, and murmurs of the windes, and distraction of 
our Company, as who was most armed, and best prepared, was 
not a little shaken. For surely (Noble Lady) as death comes 
not so sodaine nor apparant, so he comes not so elvish and pain- 
full (to men especially even then in health and perfect habitudes 
of body) as at Sea; who comes at no time so welcome, but our 
frailty (so weake is the hold of hope in miserable demonstrations 
of danger) it makes guilty of many contrary changes, and con- 
flicts: For indeede death is accompanied at no time, nor place 
with circumstances every way so uncapable of particularities of 
goodnesse and inward comforts as at Sea. For it is most true, 
there ariseth commonly no such unmercifull tempest, compound 
of so many contrary and divers Nations, but that it worketh upon 



WILLIAM STRACHEY 21 

the whole frame of the body, and most loathsomely affecteth all 
the powers thereof: and the manner of the sickenesse it laies 
upon the body, being so unsufferable, gives not the minde any 
free and quiet time, to use her judgement and Empire: which 
made the poet say: 

Hostium uxores, puerique caecos 
Sentiant motus orientis Haedi, & 
^quoris nigri fremitum, & trementes 
Verbere ripas. 

For foure and twenty houres the storme in a restlesse tumult, 
had blowne so exceedingly, as we could not apprehend in our 
imaginations any possibility of greater violence, yet did wee still 
finde it, not onely more terrible, but more constant, fury added 
to fury, and one storme urging a second more outragious then 
the former; whether it so wrought upon our feares, or indeede 
met with new forces: Sometimes strikes in our Ship amongst 
women, and passengers, not used to such hurly and discomforts, 
made us looke one upon the other with troubled hearts, and 
panting bosomes: our clamours dround in the windes, and the 
windes in thunder. Prayers might well be in the heart and lips, 
but drowned in the outcries of the Officers: nothing heard that 
could give comfort, nothing seene that might incourage hope. It 
is impossible for me, had I the voyce of Stentor, and expression 
of as many tongues, as his throate of voyces, to expresse the out- 
cries and miseries, not languishing, but wasting his spirits, and 
art constant to his owne principles, but not prevailing. Our 
sailes wound up lay without their use, and if at any time wee 
bore but a Hollocke, or halfe forecourse, to guide her before the 
Sea, six and sometimes eight men were not inough to hold the 
whipstaffe in the steerage, and the tiller below in the Gunner 
roome, by which may be imagined the strength of the storme: 
In which, the Sea swelled above the Clouds, and gave battell 
unto Heaven. It could not be said to raine, the waters like whole 
Rivers did flood in the ayre. And this I did still observe, that 
wheras upon the Land, when a storme hath powred it selfe forth 
once in drifts of raine, the winde as beaten downe, and vanquished 
therewith, not long after indureth : here the glut of water (as if 
throatling the winde ere v/hile) was no sooner a little emptied 



22 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

and qualified, but instantly the windes (as having gotten their 
mouthes now free, and at liberty) spake more loud, and grew 
more tumultuous, and malignant. What shall I say? Windes 
and Seas were as mad, as fury and rage could make them; for 
mine owne part, I had bin in some stormes before, as well upon 
the coast of Barbary and Algeere, in the Levant, and once more 
distressfull in the Adriatique gulfe, in a bottome of Candy, so as 
I may well say. Ego quid sit ater Adriae novi sinus, & quid 
albus Peccet lapex. Yet all that I had ever suffered gathered 
together, might not hold comparison with this: there was not a 
moment in which the sodaine spUtting, or instant over-setting of 
the Shippe was not expected. 

Howbeit this was not all; It pleased God to bring a greater 
affliction yet upon us ; for in the beginning of the storme we had 
received likewise a mighty leake. And the Ship in every joynt 
almost, having spued out her Oakam, before we were aware (a 
casualty more desperate then any other that a Voyage by Sea 
draweth with it) was growne five foote suddenly deepe with water 
above her ballast, and we almost drowned within, whilst we sat 
looking when to perish from above. This imparting no lesse 
terrour then danger, ranne through the whole Ship with much 
fright and amazement, startled and turned the bloud, and tooke 
downe the braves of the most hardy Marriner of them all, inso- 
much as he that before happily felt not the sorrow of others, now 
began to sorrow for himselfe, when he saw such a pond of water 
so suddenly broken in, and which he knew could not (without 
present avoiding) but instantly sinke him. So as joyning (onely 
for his owne sake, not yet worth the saving) in the publique 
safety; there might be scene Master, Masters Mate, Boateswaine, 
Quarter Master, Coopers, Carpenters, and who not, with candels 
in their hands, creeping along the ribs viewing the sides, searching 
every comer, and listening in every place, if they could heare the 
water runne. Many a weeping leake was this way found, and 
hastily stopt, and at length one in the Gunner roome made up 
with I know not how many peeces of Beefe : but all was to no pur- 
pose, the Leake (if it were but one) which drunke in our greatest 
Seas, and tooke in our destruction fastest, could not then be found, 
nor ever was, by any labour, counsell, or search. The waters still 



WILLIAM STRACHEY 23 

increasing, and the Pumpes going, which at length choaked with 
bringing up whole and continuall Bisket (and indeede all we had, 
tenne thousand weight) it was conceived, as most likely, that the 
Leake might be sprung in the Bread-roome, whereupon the Car- 
penter went downe, and ript up all the roome, but could not finde 
it so. 

I am not able to give unto your Ladiship every mans thought in 
this perplexity, to which we were now brought; but to me, this 
Leakage appeared as a wound given to men that were before dead. 
The Lord knoweth, I had as little hope, as desire of hfe in the 
storme, & in this, it went beyond my will; because beyond my 
reason, why we should labour to preserve life; yet we did, either 
because so deare are a few Ungring houres of life in all mankinde, 
or that our Christian knowledges taught us, how much we owed to 
the rites of Nature, as bound, not to be false to our selves, or to 
neglect the meanes of our owne preservation; the most despaire- 
fuU things amongst men, being matters of no wonder nor moment 
with him, who is the rich Fountaine and admirable Essence of all 
mercy. 

Our Govemour, upon the tuesday morning (at what time, by 
such who had bin below in the hold, the Leake was first discovered) 
had caused the whole Company, about one hundred and forty, 
besides women, to be equally divided into three parts, and opening 
the Ship in three places (under the forecastle, in the waste, and hard 
by the Bitacke) appointed each man where to attend; and there- 
unto every man came duely upon his watch, tooke the Bucket, or 
Pumpe for one houre, and rested another. Then men might be 
seene to labour, I may well say, for life, and the better sort, even 
our Governour, and Admirall themselves, not refusing their turne, 
and to spell each the other, to give example to other. The com- 
mon sort stripped naked, as men in Gallies, the easier both to hold 
out, and to shrinke from under the salt water, which continually 
leapt in among them, kept their eyes waking, and their thoughts 
and hands working, with tyred bodies, and wasted spirits, three 
dayes and foure nights destitute of outward comfort, and desperate 
of any deliverance, testifying how mutually willing they were, yet 
by labour to keepe each other from drowning, albeit each one 
drowned whilest he laboured. 



24 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

Once, so huge a Sea brake upon the poope and quarter upon us, 
as it covered our Shippe from stearne to stemme, hke a garment or 
a vast cloude, it filled her brimme full for a while within, from 
the hatches up to the sparre decke. This source or confluence of 
water was so violent, as it rusht and carried the Helm-man from 
the Helme, and wrested the Whip-staffe out of his hand, which so 
flev/ from side to side, that when he would have ceased the same 
againe, it so tossed him from Star-boord to Lar-boord, as it was 
Gods mercy it had not split him: It so beat him from his hold, 
and so bruised him, as a fresh man hazarding in by chance fell 
faire with it, and by maine strength bearing somewhat up, made 
good his place, and with much clamour incouraged and called 
upon others ; who gave her now up, rent in pieces and absolutely 
lost. Our Governour was at this time below at the Capstone, both 
by his speech and authoritie heartening every man unto his labour. 
It strooke him from the place where hee sate, and groveled him, 
and all us about him on our faces, beating together with our 
breaths all thoughts from our bosomes, else, then that wee were 
now sinking. For my part, I thought her alreadie in the bottome 
of the Sea; and I have heard him say, wading out of the fioud 
thereof, all his ambition was but to climbe up above hatches to 
dye in Aperto coelo, and in the company of his old friends. It so 
stun'd the ship in her full pace, that shee stirred no more, then if 
shee had beene caught in a net, or then, as if the fabulous Remora 
had stucke to her fore-castle. Yet without bearing one inch of 
saile, even then shee was making her way nine or ten leagues in a 
watch. One thing, it is not without his wonder (whether it were 
the feare of death in so great a storme, or that it pleased God to be 
gracious unto us) there was not a passenger, gentleman, or other, 
after hee beganne to stirre and labour, but was able to relieve his 
fellow, and make good his course : And it is most true, such as in 
all their life times had never done houres worke before (their 
mindes now helping their bodies) were able twice fortie eight houres 
together to toile with the best. 

During all this time, the heavens look'd so blacke upon us, 
that it was not possible the elevation of the Pole might be observed : 
nor a Starre by night, not Sunne beame by day was to be scene. 
Onely upon the thursday night Sir George Summers being upon 



WILLIAM ST R AC HEY 



25 



the watch, had an apparition of a little round light, like a faint 
Starre, trembling, and streaming along with a sparkeling blaze, 
halfe the height upon the Maine Mast, and shooting sometimes 
from Shroud to Shroud, tempting to settle as it were upon any of 
the foure Shrouds: and for three or foure houres together, or 
rather more, halfe the night it kept with us; running sometimes 
along the Maine-yard to the very end, and then returning. At 
which, Sir George Summers called divers about him, and shewed 
them the same, who observed it with much wonder, and careful- 
nesse: but upon a sodaine, towards the morning watch, they 
lost the sight of it, and knew not what way it made. The super- 
stitious Sea-men make many constructions of this Sea-fire, which 
neverthelesse is usuall in stormes : the same (it may be) which the 
Grecians were wont in the Mediterranean to call Castor and 
Pollux, of which, if one onely appeared without the other, they 
tooke it for an evill signe of great tempest. The Italians, and 
such, who lye open to the Adriatique and Tyrrene Sea, call it 
(a sacred Body) Corpo sancto: the Spaniards call it Saint Elmo, 
and have an authentique and miraculous Legend for it. Be it what 
it will, we laid other foundations of safety or ruine, then in the 
rising or falling of it, could it have served us now miraculously to 
have taken our height by, it might have strucken amazement, and 
a reverence in our devotions, according to the due of a miracle. 
But it did not light us any whit the more to our knowne way, who 
ran now (as doe hoodwinked men) at all adventures, sometimes 
North, and North-east, then North and by West, and in an in- 
stant againe varying two or three points, and sometimes halfe the 
Compasse. East and by South we steered away as much as we 
could to beare upright, which was no small carefulnesse nor paine 
to doe, albeit we much unrigged our Ship, threw over-boord much 
luggage, many a Trunke and Chest (in which I suffered no meane 
losse) and staved many a Butt of Beere, Hogsheads of Oyle, 
Syder, Wine, and Vinegar, and heaved away all our Ordnance on 
the Starboord side, and had now purposed to have cut downe the 
Maine Mast, the more to lighten her, for we were much spent, and 
our men so weary, as their strengths together failed them, with 
their hearts, having travailed now from Tuesday till Friday morn- 
ing, day and night, without either sleepe or foode ; for the leakeage 



26 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

taking up all the hold, wee coud neither come by Beere nor fresh 
water ; fire we could keepe none in the Cooke- roome to dresse any 
meate, and carefulnesse, griefe, and our turne at the Pumpe or 
Bucket, were sufficient to hold sleepe from our eyes. 

And surely. Madam, it is most true, there was not any houre (a 
matter of admiration) all these dayes, in which we freed not twelve 
hundred Barricos of water, the least whereof contained six gallons, 
and some eight, besides three deepe Pumpes continually going, two 
beneath at the Capstone, and the other above in the halfe Decke, 
and at each Pumpe foure thousand stroakes at the least in a watch ; 
so as I may well say, every foure houres, we quitted one hundred 
tunnes of water: and from tuesday noone till friday noone, we 
bailed and pumped two thousand tunne, and yet doe what we could, 
when our Ship held least in her, (after tuesday night second watch) 
shee bore ten foote deepe, at which stay our extreame working 
kept her one eight glasses, forbearance whereof had instantly 
sunke us, and it being now Friday, the fourth morning, it wanted 
little, but that there had bin a generall determination, to have 
shut up hatches, and commending our sinfuU soules to God, com- 
mitted the Shippe to the mercy of the Sea: surely, that night we 
must have done it, and that night had we then perished : but see 
the goodnesse and sweet introduction of better hope, by our merci- 
fuU God given unto us. Sir George Summers, when no man 
dreamed of such happinesse, had discovered, and cried Land. 
Indeede the morning now three quarters spent, had wonne a little 
cleerenesse from the dayes before, and it being better surveyed, the 
very trees were scene to move with the winde upon the shoare 
side: whereupon our Governour commanded the Helme-man to 
beare up, the Boateswaine sounding at the first, found it thirteene 
fathome, & when we stood a little in seven fatham ; and presently 
heaving his lead the third time, had ground at foure fathome, 
and by this, we had got her within a mile under the South-east 
point of the land, where we had somewhat smooth water. But 
having no hope to save her by comming to an anker in the same, we 
were inforced to runne her ashoare, as neere the land as we could, 
which brought us within three quarters of a mile of shoare, and 
by the mercy of God unto us, making out our Boates, we had ere 
night brought all our men, women, and children, about the number 
of one hundred and fifty, safe into the Hand. 



7 



WILLIAM BRADFORD 

[William Bradford was born in Yorkshire, England, in 15S8. He joined 
the Separatists in 1606, went to Holland in 1608, and though a young man 
was prominent in the affairs of the church at Amsterdam and Leyden. He 
seems to have been active in urging emigration to America, and he sailed in 
the Mayflower. When Governor Carver died, a few months after the land- 
ing at Plymouth, Bradford was chosen his successor, and was annually 
reelected for many years. He died in 1657. 

Although Bradford was not of high social position, and had no regular 
opportunities for a liberal education, he gained some knowledge of the 
classics, and in his later years attempted to learn Hebrew. In his exercise 
book he notes: "Though I am growne aged, yet I have had a longing desire, 
to see with my own eyes, something of that most ancient language, and holy 
tongue, in which the Law and oracles of God were write; and in which God, 
and angels, spake to the holy patriarchs, of old time; and what names were 
given to things, from the creation." Governor Bradford was a somewhat 
voluminous writer, though but one of his works was published during his 
lifetime. This was a journal containing the experiences of the colonists 
from November, 1620, to December, 1621, and was the joint work of Brad- 
ford, Edward Winslow, and others. It was published in London, without 
the authors' names, in 1622, and became known, on account of a prefatory 
note signed " G. Mourt," as " Mourt's Relation." Bradford's most important 
writing is "The History of Plymouth Plantation." The first book treats 
of the rise of the dissenters, and the causes that influenced their emigra- 
tion to Holland and afterward to America. The part of the work which 
covers the period after 1620 is in the form of annals. Governor Bradford 
began the History about 1630, and after bringing the narrative to date, 
added an account of the events of each year till 1647. His object in writing 
was evidently to leave a record for posterity, and so far as is known he made 
no attempt to have the work published in his lifetime. After his death the 
manuscript passed to his relatives, and finally reached the Prince Library. 
During the British occupation of Boston at the time of the Revolution it 
disappeared, and was supposed to be lost; but in 1855 it was discovered in 
the library of the Bishop of London. In 1897 it was returned by the Bishop 
of London to the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. Many passages from 
the History had been used, with and without credit, in the works of Nathaniel 
Morton, Thomas Prince, Governor Hutchinson, and others; but the work 
as a whole was first printed by the Massachusetts Historical Society in 1856. 
A photographic facsimile was issued in London and Boston in 1896, a new 
edition was prepared under the direction of the Commonwealth of Massa- 

27 



28 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

chusetts in 1898, and another edition appeared in 1907. A portion of Gov- 
ernor Bradford's letter-book was published by the Massachusetts Histori- 
cal Society in 1794, and some of his other writings in prose and verse have 
since been printed. A number of them are found in Alexander Young's 
"Chronicles of the Pilgrim Fathers," 1841. 

In some passages Governor Bradford's writings show a simple dignity 
and a finely pathetic quality obviously derived from the reading and con- 
templation of the Bible. The greater part of his work is plain and accurate, 
but without any graces of style. His lack of a literary sense is best shown 
by the ludicrous baldness of his verses, a few of which are given in the fol- 
lowing pages. 

The text of the selection from "Mourt's Relation" follows the literal 
reprint by Henry Martin Dexter, Boston, 1865. The text of the passages 
from "The History of Plymouth Plantation" is based on the edition pre- 
pared for the Commonwealth of Massachusetts by Alfred Seelye Roe in 
1898, collated in some doubtful places with the zincograph facsimile of the 
manuscript, Boston, 1896. The verses on New England are from a frag- 
ment printed from Governor Bradford's manuscript in the Massachusetts 
Historical Society Collections, First Series, Vol. Ill, 1794-] 

FIRST ACQUAINTANCE WITH THE INDIANS 

[From "Mourt's Relation" '] 

Fryday, the 16. a fayre warme day towards; this morning we 
determined to conclude of the military Orders, which we had began 
to consider of before, but were interrupted by the Savages, as we 
mentioned formerly; and whilst we were busied here about, we 
were interrupted againe, for there presented himself a Savage, 
which caused an Alarm, he very boldly came all alone and along 
the houses straight to the Randevous, where we intercepted him, not 
suffering him to goe in, as undoubtedly he would, out of his bold- 
nesse, hee saluted us in EngUsh, and bad us well-come, for he had 
learned some broken English amongst the English men that came 
to fish at Monchiggon, and knew by name the most of theCap- 
taines. Commanders, & Masters that usually come, he was a man 
free in speech, so farre as he could expresse his minde, and of a 
seemely carriage, we questioned him of many things, he was the 
first Savage we could meete withall; he sayd he was not of these 
parts, but of Morattiggon, and one of the Sagamores or Lords thereof, 

P See the introductory note, above. This part of the journal is conjecturally 
ascribed to Bradford, but the authorship cannot be definitely established.] 



WILLIAM BRADFORD 29 

and had beene 8. moneths in these parts, it lying hence a dayes 
sayle with a great wind, and five dayes by land ; he discoursed of 
the whole Country, and of every Province, and of their Sagamores, 
and their number of men, and strength; the wind beginning to 
rise a Uttle, we cast a horsemans coat about him, for he was starke 
naked, onely a leather about his wast, with a fringe about a span 
long, or little more; he had a bow & 2 arrowes, the one headed, 
and the other unheaded; he was a tall straight man, the haire of 
his head blacke, long behind, onely short before, none on his face 
at all; he asked some beere, but we gave him strong water, and 
bisket, and butter, and cheese, & pudding, and a peece of a mal- 
lerd, all which he liked well, and had bin acquainted with such 
amongst the EngHsh; he told us the place where we now Hve, is 
called, Patuxet, and that about foure yeares agoe, all the Inhabit- 
ants dyed of an extraordinary plague, and there is neither man, 
woman, nor childe remaining, as indeed we have found none, so 
as there is none to hinder our possession, or to lay claime unto it ; 
all the after-noone we spent in communication with him, we would 
gladly have beene rid of him at night, but he was not vnlling to goe 
this night, then we thought to carry him on ship-boord, wherewith 
he was well content, and went into the Shallop, but the winde 
was high and water scant, that it could not returne backe: we 
lodged him that night at Steven Hopkins house, and watched him ; 
the next day he went away backe to the Masasoits, from whence 
he sayd he came, who are our next bordering neighbours : they 
are sixtie strong, as he sayth: the Nausites are as neere South- 
east of them, and are a hundred strong, and those were they of 
whom our people were encountred, as we before related. They 
are much incensed and provoked against the English, and about 
eyght moneths agoe slew three EngHsh men, and two more hardly 
escaped by flight to Monhiggon; they were Sir Ferdinando Gorge 
his men, as this Savage told us, as he did likevdse of the Huggerie, 
that is. Fight, that our discoverers had with the Nausites, &. of 
our tooles that were taken out of the woods, which we willed him 
should be brought againe, otherwise, we would right ourselves. 
These people are ill afi:ected towards the English, by reason of one 
Hunt, a master of a ship, who deceived the people, and got them 
under colour of truking with them, twentie out of this very place 



30 



EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 



where we inhabite, and seaven men from the Nausites, and car- 
ried them away, and sold them for slaves, like a wretched man 
(for 20. pound a man) that cares not what mischiefe he doth for 
his profit. 

Saturday in the morning we dismissed the Salvage, and gave him 
a knife, a bracelet, and a ring ; he promised within a night or two 
to come againe, and to bring with him some of the Massasoyts our 
neighbours, with such Bevers skins as they had to trucke with us. 

Saturday and Sunday reasonable fayre dayes. On this day 
came againe the Savage, and brought with him five other tall 
proper men, they had every man a Deeres skin on him, and the 
principall of them had a wild Cats skin, or such like on the one 
arme; they had most of them long hosen up to their groynes, 
close made; and above their groynes to their wast another 
leather, they were altogether like the /mA-trouses; they are of 
complexion like our English Gipseys, no haire or very little on their 
faces, on their heads long haire to their shoulders, onely cut be- 
fore some trussed up before with a feather, broad wise, like a 
fanne, another a fox tayle hanging out: these left (according to 
our charge given him before) their Bowes and Arrowes a quarter 
of a myle from our Towne, we gave them entertaynement as we 
thought was fitting them, they did eate liberally of our English 
victuals, they made semblance unto us of friendship and amitie; 
they song & danced after their maner, like Anticks; they brought 
with them in a thing like a Bow-case (which the principall of them 
had about his wast) a little of their Come pownded to Powder, 
which put to a little water they eate; he had a little Tobacco in a 
bag, but none of them drunke but when he listed, some of them had 
their faces paynted black, from the forehead to the chin, foure or 
five fingers broad ; others after other fashions, as they liked ; they 
brought three or foure skins, but we would not trucke with them 
at all that day, but wished them to bring more, and we would 
trucke for all, which they promised within a night or two, and 
would leave these behind them, though we were not willing they 
should, and they brought us all our tooles againe which were taken 
in the woods, in our mens absence, so because of the day we dis- 
missed them so soone as we could. But Samoset our first acquaint- 
ance, eyther was sicke, or fayned himselfe so, and would not goe 



WILLIAM BRADFORD 3 1 

with them, and stayed \nth us till Wednesday morning : Then 
we sent him to them, to know the reason they came not accord- 
ing to their words, and we gave him an hat, a payre of stockings 
and shooes, a shirt, and a peece of cloth to tie about his wast. 

THE VOYAGE OF THE MAYFLOWER 

[Chapter IX, Book I, of "The History of Plymouth Plantation"] 

Septr. 6. These troubls being blowne over, and now all being 
compacte togeather in one shipe, they put to sea againe with a 
prosperus winde, which continued diverce days togeather, which 
was some incouragmente unto them; yet according to the usuall 
maner many were afflicted with sea-sicknes. And I may not 
omite hear a spetiall worke of Gods providence. Ther was a 
proud & very profane yonge man, one of the sea-men, of a lustie, 
able body, which made him the more hauty; he would allway be 
contemning the poore people in their sicknes, & cursing them 
dayly \'iath gree[v]ous execrations, and did not let to tell them, that 
he hoped to help to cast halfe of them over board before they came 
to their jurneys end, and to make mery with what they had; and 
if he were by any gently reproved, he would curse and swear most 
bitterly. But it plased God before they came halfe seas over, to 
smite this yong man with a greeveous disease, of which he dyed in 
a desperate maner, and so was him selfe the first that was throwne 
overbord. Thus his curses light on his owne head ; and it was an 
astonishmente to all his fellows, for they noted it to be the just 
hand of God upon him. 

After they had injoyed faire wands and weather for a season, 
they were incountred many times with crosse winds, and mete 
^vith many feirce stormes, with which the shipe was shroudly 
shaken, and her upper works made very leakie; and one of the 
maine beames in the midd ships was bowed & craked, which put 
them in some fear that the shipe could not be able to performe 
the vioage. So some of the cheefe of the company, perceiveing 
the mariners to feare the suffisiencie of the shipe, as appeared by 
their mutterings, they entred into serious consuUtation with the 
mr. & other officers of the ship, to consider in time of the danger; 



32 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

and rather to returne then to cast them selves into a desperate & 
inevitable perill. And truly ther was great distraction & differ- 
ance of opinion amongst the mariners them selves; faine would 
they doe what could be done for their wages sake, (being now 
halfe the seas over,) and on the other hand they were loath to 
hazard their lives too desperatly. But in examening of all opin- 
ions, the mr. & others affirmed they knew the ship to be stronge 
& firme under water; and for the buckling of the maine beame, 
ther was a great iron scrue the passengers brought out of Holland, 
which would raise the beame into his place ; the which being done, 
the carpenter & mr. affirmed that with a post put under it, set 
firme in the lower deck, & otherways bounde, he would make it 
sufficiente. And as for the decks & uper workes they would 
calke them as well as they could, and though with the workeing 
of the ship they would not longe keepe stanch, yet ther would 
otherwise be no great danger, if they did not overpress her with 
sails. So they commited them selves to the will of God, & re- 
solved to proseede. In sundrie of these stormes the winds were 
so feirce, & the seas so high, as they could not beare a knote of 
saile, but were forced to hull, for diverce days togither. And in 
one of them as they thus lay at hull, in a mighty storme, a lustie 
yonge man (called John Rowland) coming upon some occasion 
above the grattings, was, with a seele of the shipe throwne into sea ; 
but it pleased God that he caught hould of the top-saile halliards, 
which hunge over board, & rane out at length; yet he held his 
hould (though he was sundrie fadomes under water) till he was 
hald up by the same rope to the brime of the water, and then with 
a boat Tiooke & other means got into the shipe againe, & his 
life saved; and though he was something ill with it, yet he lived 
many years after, and became a profitable member both in church 
& commone wealthe. In all this viage ther died but one of the 
passengers, which was William Butten, a youth, servant to Samuell 
Fuller, when they drew near the coast. But to omite other things, 
(that I may be breefe,) after longe beating at sea they fell with 
that land which is called Cape Cod; the which being made & 
certainly knowne to be it, they were not a litle joyfull. After 
some deliberation had amongst them selves & with the mr. of 
the ship, they tacked aboute and resolved to stande for the south- 



WILLIAM BRADFORD 33 

ward (the wind & weather being faire) to finde some place aboute 
Hudsons river for their habitation. But after they had sailed 
that course aboute halfe the day, they fell amongst deangerous 
shoulds and roring breakers, and they were so farr intangled ther 
with as they conceived them selves in great danger; & the wind 
shrinking upon them withall, they resolved to bear up againe for the 
Cape, and thought them selves hapy to gett out of those dangers 
before night overtooke them, as by Gods providence they did. 
And the next day they gott into the Cape-harbor wher they ridd 
in saftie. A word or too by the way of this cape; it was thus first 
named by Capten Gosnole & his company,^ Anno 1602, and after 
by Capten Smith was caled Cape James ; but it retains the former 
name amongst seamen. Also that pointe which first shewed those 
dangerous shoulds unto them, they called Pointe Care, & Tuckers 
Terrour; but the French & Dutch to this day call it Malabarr, 
by reason of those perilous shoulds, and the losses they have suf- 
fered their. 

Being thus arived in a good harbor and brought safe to land, 
they fell upon their knees & blessed the God of heaven, who had 
brought them over the vast & furious ocean, and delivered them 
from all the periles & miseries therof, againe to set their feete 
on the firme and stable earth, their proper elemente. And no 
marvell if they were thus joyefull, seeing wise Seneca was so 
affected with saiHng a few miles on the coast of his owne Italy; 
as he affirmed ^ that he had rather remaine twentie years on his 
way by land, then pass by sea to any place in a short time; so 
tedious & dreadfull was the same unto him. 

But hear I cannot but stay and make a pause, and stand half 
amased at this poore peoples presente condition; and so I thinke 
will the reader too, when he well considers the same. Being thus 
passed the vast ocean, and a sea of troubles before in their prepara- 
tion (as may be remembred by that which wente before), they had 
now no freinds to wellcome them, nor inns to entertaine or refresh 
their weatherbeaten bodys, no houses or much less townes to re- 
paire too, to seeke for succoure. It is recorded in scripture ^ 
as a mercie to the apostle & his shipwraked company, that the 
barbarians shewed them no smale kindnes in refreshing them, but 

* Because they tooke much of that fishe ther. ^ Epist. iii. * Acts xxviii. 



34 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

these savage barbarians, when they mette with them (as after will 
appeare) were readier to fill their sids full of arrows then otherwise. 
And for the season it was winter, and they that know the winters 
of that cuntrie know them to be sharp & violent, &. subjecte to 
cruell & feirce stormes, deangerous to travill to known places, 
much more to serch an unknown coast. Besids, what could they 
see but a hidious & desolate wildernes, full of wild beasts & willd 
men? and what multituds ther might be of them they knew not. 
Nether could they, as it were, goe up to the tope of Pisgah, to vew 
from this willdernes a more goodly cuntrie to feed their hops; 
for which way soever they turnd their eys (save upward to the 
heavens) they could have litle solace or content in respecte of 
any outward objects. For summer being done, all things stand 
upon them with a wetherbeaten face ; and the whole countrie, full 
of woods &: thickets, represented a wild & savage heiw. If they 
looked behind them, ther was the mighty ocean which they had 
passed, and was now as a maine barr & goulfe to seperate them 
from all the civill parts of the world. If it be said they had a ship 
to succour them, it is trew; but what heard they daly from the mr. 
& company ? but that with speede they should looke out a place 
with their shallop, wher they would be at some near distance ; for 
the season was shuch as he would not stirr from thence till a safe 
harbor was discovered by them wher they would be, and he might 
goe without danger; and that victells consumed apace, but he 
must & would keepe sufficient for them selves & their returne. 
Yea, it was muttered by some, that if they gott not a place in time, 
they would turne them & their goods ashore & leave them. Let 
it also be considred what weake hopes of supply & succoure 
they left behinde them, that might bear up their minds in this sade 
condition and trialls they were under; and they could not but be 
very smale. It is true, indeed, the affections & love of their breth- 
ren at Leyden was cordiall & entire towards them, but they had 
litle power to help them, or them selves; and how the case stode 
betweene them & the marchants at their coming away, hath all- 
ready been declared. What could now sustaine them but the 
spirite of God & his grace ? May not & ought not the children 
of these fathers rightly say : Otcr faithers were Englishmen which 
came over this great ocean, and were ready to perish in this willder- 



WILLIAM BRADFORD 35 

nes;^ but they cried unto the Lord, and he heard their voyce, and 
looked on their adversitie, &c. Let them therfore praise the Lord, 
because he is good, & his mercies endure for ever? Yea, let them 
which have been redeemed of the Lord, shew how he hath delivered 
them from the hand of the oppressour. When they wandered in 
the deserte willdernes out of the way, and found no citie to dwell in, 
both hungrie; & thirstie, their sowle was ovenvhelmed in them. 
Let them confess before the Lord his loving kindnes, and his wonder- 
full works before the sons of men. 

THE SETTLEMENT AT MERRY MOUNT 

[From "The History of Plymouth Plantation" for 1628] 

Aboute some 3. or 4. years before this time, ther came over one 
Captaine Wolastone, (a man of pretie parts,) and with him 3. or 
4. more of some eminencie, who brought with them a great many 
servants, with provissions & other implments for to begine a 
plantation ; and pitched them selves in a place within the Massa- 
chusets, which they called, after their Captains name, Mount- 
Wollaston. Amongst whom was one Mr. Morton, who, it should 
seeme, had some small adventure (of his owne or other mens) 
amongst them; but had litle respecte amongst them, and was 
sleghted by the meanest servants. Haveing continued ther some 
time, and not finding things to answer their expectations, nor 
profile to arise as they looked for, Captaine Wollaston takes a great 
part of the sarvents, and transports them to Virginia, wher he 
puts them of at good rates, selling their time to other men; and 
writs back to one Mr. Rassdall, one of his cheefe partners, and 
accounted their marchant, to bring another parte of them to Ver- 
ginia likewise, intending to put them of there as he had done the 
rest. And he, with the consente of the said Rasdall, appoynted 
one Fitcher to be his Livetenante, and governe the remaines of the 
plantation, till he or Rasdall returned to take further order ther- 
aboute. But this Morton abovesaid, haveing more craft than 
honestie, (who had been a kind of petiefogger, of Furnefells Inne,) 
in the others absence, watches an oppertunitie, (commons being 

* Deut. 26. 5, 7. * 107 Ps. V. I, 2, 4, 5, 8. 



36 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

but hard amongst them,) and gott some strong drinck and other 
junkats, & made them a feast; and after they were merie, he be- 
gane to tell them, he would give them good counsell. You see 
(saith he) that many of your fellows are carried to Virginia; and 
if you stay till this Rasdall returne, you will also be carried away 
and sould for slaves vdth the rest. Therfore I would advise you 
to thrust out this Levetenant Fitcher ; and I, having a parte in the 
plantation, will receive you as my partners and consociats; so 
may you be free from service, and we will converse, trad, plante, & 
live togeather as equalls, & supporte & protecte one another, or to 
like effecte. This counsell was easily received; so they tooke 
oppertunitie, and thrust Levetenante Fitcher out a dores, and would 
suffer him to come no more amongst them, but forct him to seeke 
bread to eate, and other releefe from his neigbours, till he could 
gett passages for England. After this they fell to great licencious- 
ness, and led a dissolute life, powering out them selves into all pro- 
fanenes. And Morton became lord of misrule, and maintained 
(as it were) a schoole of Athisme. And after they had gott some 
good into their hands, and gott much by trading with the Indeans, 
they spent it as vainly, in quafiing & drinking both wine & strong 
waters in great exsess, and, as some reported 10^. worth in a morn- 
ing. They allso set up a May-pole, drinking and dancing aboute 
it many days togeather, inviting thelndean women, for their con- 
sorts, dancing and frisking togither, (Hke so many fairies, or furies 
rather,) and worse practises. As if they had anew revived & 
celebrated the feasts of the Roman Goddes Flora, or the beasly 
practieses of the madd Bacchinalians. Morton likwise (to shew 
his poetrie) composed sundry rimes & verses, some tending to 
lasciviousnes, and others to the detraction & scandall of some 
persons, which he affixed to this idle or idoU May-polle. They 
chainged allso the name of their place, and in stead of calling it 
Mounte Wollaston, they call it Merie-mounte, as if this joylity 
would have lasted ever. But this continued not long, for after 
Morton was sent for England, (as follows to be declared,) shortly 
after came over that worthy gentlman, Mr. John Indecott, who 
brought over a patent under the broad seall, for the governmente 
of the Massachusets, who visiting those parts caused that May- 
polle to be cutt downe, and rebuked them for their profannes, and 



WILLIAM BRADFORD 37 

admonished them to looke ther should be better walking ; so they 
now, or others, changed the name of their place againe, and called 
it Mounte-Dagon. 

Now to maintaine this riotous prodigallitie and profuse excess, 
Morton, thinking him selfe lawless, and hearing what gaine the 
French & fisher-men made by trading of peeces, powder, & shotte 
to the Indeans, he, as the head of this consortship, begane the 
practise of the same in these parts ; and first he taught them how 
to use them, to charge, & discharg, and what proportion of powder 
to give the peece, according to the sise or bignes of the same; 
and what shotte to use for foule, and what for deare. And having 
thus instructed them, he imployed some of them to hunte & fowle 
for him, so as they became farr more active in that imploymente 
then any of the English, by reason of ther swiftnes of foote, & 
nimblnes of body, being also quick-sighted, and by continuall ex- 
ercise well knowing the hants of all sorts of game. So as when 
they saw the execution that a peece would doe, and the bene- 
fite that might come by the same, they became madd, as it were, 
after them, and would not stick to give any prise they could attaine 
too for them; accounting their bowes & arrowes but babies in 
comparison of them. 

And here I may take occasion to bewaile the mischefe that 
this wicked man began in these parts, and which since base 
covetousnes prevailing in men that should know better, has now 
at length gott the upper hand, and made this thing commone, 
notwithstanding any laws to the contrary; so as the Indeans are 
full of peeces all over, both fouling peeces, muskets, pistols, &c. 
They have also their moulds to make shotte, of all sorts, as muskett 
bulletts, pistoll bullets, swane & gose shote, & of smaler sorts; 
yea, some have seen them have their scruplats to make scrupins 
them selves, when they wante them, with sundery other imple- 
ments, wherwith they are ordinarily better fited & furnished 
then the English them selves. Yea, it is well knowne that they 
will have powder & shot, when the English want it, nor cannot 
gett it; and that in time of warre or danger, as experience hath 
manifested, that when lead hath been scarce, and men for their 
owne defence would gladly have given a groat a ti, which is dear 
enoughe, yet hath it bene bought up & sent to other places, and 



38 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

sould to shuch as trade it with the Indeans, at 12. pence theti. ; 
and it is Hke they give 3. or 4. s. the pound, for they will have it 
at any rate. And these things have been done in the same times, 
when some of their neighbours & freinds are daly killed by the 
Indeans, or are in deanger therof, and live but at the Indeans 
mercie. Yea, some (as they have aquainted them with all other 
things) have tould them how gunpowder is made, and all the 
materialls in it, and that they are to be had in their owne land; 
and I am confidente, could they attaine to make saltpeter, they 
would teach them to make powder. O, the horiblnes of this 
vilanie ! how many both Dutch & English have been latly slaine 
by those Indeans, thus furnished; and no remedie provided, nay, 
the evill more increased, and the blood of their brethren sould 
for gaine, as is to be feared ; and in what danger all these colo- 
nies are in is too well known. Oh ! that princes & parlements 
would take some timly order to prevente this mischeefe, and at 
length to suppress it, by some exemplerie punishmente upon 
some of these gaine thirstie murderers, (for they deserve no better 
title,) before their collonies in these parts be over throwne by 
these barbarous savages, thus armed with their owne weapons, 
by these evill instruments, and traytors to their neighbors and 
cuntrie. But I have forgott my selfe, and have been to longe 
in this digression; but now to returne. This Morton having 
thus taught them the use of peeces, he sould them all he could 
spare; and he and his consorts detirmined to send for many 
out of England, and had by some of the ships sente for above a 
score. The which being knowne, and his neighbours meeting 
the Indeans in the woods armed with guns in this sorte, it was a 
terrour unto them, who lived straglingly, and were of no strenght 
in any place. And other places (though more remote) saw this 
mischeefe would quietly spread over all if not prevented. Besides, 
they saw they should keep no servants, for Morton would enter- 
taine any, how vile soever, and all the scume of the countrie, or 
any discontents, would flock to him from all places, if this nest 
was not broken; and they should stand in more fear of their 
lives Sc goods (in short time) from this wicked & deboste crue, 
then from the salvages them selves. 

So sundrie of the cheefe of the stragling plantations, meeting 



WILLIAM BRADFORD 39 

togither, agreed by mutuall consente to sollissite those of Plimoth 
(who were then of more strength then them all) to joyne with 
them, to prevente the further grouth of this mischeefe, and sup- 
press Morton & his consortes before they grewe to further head 
and strength. Those that joyned in this acction (and after con- 
tributed to the charge of sending him for England) were from 
Pascataway, Namkeake, Winisimett, Weesagascusett, Natasco, 
and other places wher any English were seated. Those of PU- 
moth being thus sought too by their messengers & letters, and 
waying both their reasons, and the commone danger, were willing 
to afford them their help ; though them selves had least cause of 
fear or hurte. So, to be short, they first resolved joyntly to 
write to him, and in a freindly & neigborly way to admonish 
him to forbear these courses, & sent a messenger with their 
letters to bring his answer. But he was so highe as he scorned 
all advise, and asked who had to doe with him; he had and 
would trade peeces with the Indeans in dispite of all, with many 
other scurilous termes full of disdaine. They sente to him a 
second time, and bad him be better advised, and more temperate 
in his termes, for the countrie could not beare the injure he did; 
it was against their comone saftie, and against the king's procla- 
mation. He ansvverd in high terms as before, and that the 
kings proclaimation was no law; demanding what penaltie was 
upon it. It was answered, more then he could bear, his majes- 
ties displeasure. But insolently he persisted, and said the king 
was dead and his displeasure with him, & many the like things ; 
and threatened withall that if any came to molest him, let them 
looke to them selves, for he would prepare for them. Upon 
which they saw ther was no way but to take him by force ; and 
having so farr proceeded, now to give over would make him farr 
more hautie & insolente. So they mutually resolved to pro- 
ceed, and obtained of the Govr. of Phmoth to send Captaine 
Standish, & some other aide with him, to take Morton by force. 
The which accordingly was done ; but they found him to stand 
stifly in his defence, having made fast his dors, armed his con- 
sorts, set diverse dishes of powder & bullets ready on the table; 
and if they had not been over armed with drinke, more hurt 
might have been done. They sommaned him to yeeld, but he 



40 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

kept his house, and they could gett nothing but scofes & scorns 
from him; but at length, fearing they would doe some violence 
to the house, he and some of his crue came out, but not to yeeld, 
but to shoote ; but they were so steeld with drinke as their peeces 
were to heavie for them; him selfe with a carbine (over charged & 
allmost halfe fild with powder & shote, as was after found) had 
thought to have shot Captaine Standish; but he stept to him, & 
put by his peece, & tooke him. Neither was ther any hurte 
done to any of either side, save that one was so drunke that he 
rane his owne nose upon the pointe of a sword that one held 
before him as he entred the house ; but he lost but a litle of his 
hott blood. Morton they brought away to Plimoth, wher he was 
kepte, till a ship went from the He of Shols for England, with 
which he was sente to the Counsell of New-England ; and letters 
writen to give them information of his course & cariage; and 
also one was sent at their commone charge to informe their Honours 
more perticulerly, & to prosecute against him. But he foold of 
the messenger, after he was gone from hence, and though he 
wente for England, yet nothing was done to him, not so much 
as rebukte, for ought was heard; but returned the nexte year. 
Some of the worst of the company were disperst, and some of the 
more modest kepte the house till he should be heard from. But 
I have been too long aboute so unworthy a person, and bad a 
cause. 

THE DESTRUCTION OF THE PEQUODS 

[From "The History of Plymouth Plantation" for 1637] 

I shall not take upon me exactly to describe their proceedings 
in these things, because I expecte it will be fully done by them 
selves, who best know the carrage & circumstances of things; I 
shall therfore but touch them in generall. From Connightecute 
(who were most sencible of the hurt sustained, & the present 
danger), they sett out a partie of men, and an other partie mett 
them from the Bay, at the Narigansets, who were to joyne with 
them. The Narigansets were ernest to be gone before the Eng- 
lish were well rested and refreshte, espetially some of them which 
came last. It should seeme their desire was to come upon the 



WILLIAM BRADFORD 4 1 

enemie sudenly, & undiscovered. Ther was a barke of this 
place, newly put in ther, which was come from Conightecutte, 
who did incourage them to lay hold of the Indeans forwardnes, 
and to shew as great forwardnes as they, for it would incorage 
them, and expedition might prove to their great advantage. So 
they went on, and so ordered their march, as the Indeans brought 
them to a forte of the enimies (in which most of their cheefe men 
were) before day. They approached the same with great silence, 
and surrounded it both with English & Indeans, that they might 
not breake out; and so assualted them with great courage, shoot- 
ing amongst them, and entered the forte with all speed; and 
those that first entered found sharp resistance from the enimie, 
who both shott at & grapled with them; others rane into their 
howses, & brought out fire, and sett them on fire, which soone 
tooke in their matts, &, standing close togeather, with the wind, 
all was quickly on a flame, and therby more were burnte to death 
then was otherwise slaine; it burnte their bowstrings, and made 
them unservisable. Those that scaped the fire were slaine with 
the sword; some hewed to peeces, others rune throw with their 
rapiers, so as they were quickly dispatchte, and very few escaped. 
It was conceived they thus destroyed about 400. at this time. It 
was a fearfull sight to see them thus frying in the fyer, and the 
streams of blood quenching the same, and horrible was the stinck 
& sente ther of; but the victory seemed a sweete sacrifice, and 
they gave the prays therof to God, who had wrought so wonderfuly 
for them, thus to inclose their enimise in their hands, and give 
them so speedy a victory over so proud & insulting an enimie. 

SOME VERSES ON NEW ENGLAND 

[Printed, from a manuscript of Governor Bradford, in the "Collections of the 
Massachusetts Historical Society," First series, Vol. II, 1794 *] 

Almost ten years we lived here alone, 
In other places there were few or none ; 
For Salem was the next of any fame. 
That began to augment New England's name; 

[1 The spelling, etc., were of course modernized by the editor. No exact reprint 
is available.] 



42 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

But after multitudes began to flow, 

More than well knew themselves where to bestow; 

Boston then began her roots to spread, 

And quickly soon she grew to be the head, 

Not only of the Massachusetts Bay, 

But all trade and commerce fell in her way. 

And truly it was admirable to know, 

How greatly all things here began to grow. 

New plantations were in each place begun 

And with inhabitants were filled soon. 

All sorts of grain whicH our own land doth yield. 

Was hither brought, and sown in every field : 

As wheat and rye, barley, oats, beans, and pease 

Here all thrive, and they profit from them raise, 

All sorts of roots and herbs in gardens grow, 

Parsnips, carrots, turnips, or what you'll sow. 

Onions, melons, cucumbers, radishes, 

Skirets, beets, coleworts, and fair cabbages. 

Here grows fine flowers many, and 'mongst those. 

The fair white lily and sweet fragrant rose. 

Many good wholesome berries here you'll find. 

Fit for man's use, almost of every kind, 

Pears, apples, cherries, plumbs, quinces, and peach, 

Are now no dainties ; you may have of each. 

Nuts and grapes of several sorts are here. 

If you will take the pains them to seek for. 

Cattle of every kind do fill the land; 
Many now are kill'd, and their hides tann'd: 
By which men are supply'd with meat and shoes. 
Or what they can, though much by wolves they lose. 
Here store of cows, which milk and butter yield, 
And also oxen, for to till the field; 
Of which great profit many now do make, 
If they have a fit place and able pains do take. 
Horses here likewise now do multiply. 
They prosper well, and yet their price is high. 
Here are swine, good store, and some goats do keep, 



WILLIAM BRADFORD 43 

But now most begin to get store of sheep, 

That with their wool their bodies may be clad, 

In time of straits, when things cannot be had; 

For merchants keep the price of cloth so high, 

As many are not able the same to buy. 

And happy would it be for people here. 

If they could raise cloth for themselves to wear. 



JOHN WINTHROP 

[John Winthrop was a man of better family and wider experience in the 
world than most of the Puritan laymen in early New England. He was 
born in Suffolk in 1588, and spent two years at Trinity College, Cambridge. 
His religious experiences inclined him at one time to become a minister, but 
he finally devoted himself to the law. By 1630, when he came to America 
as the leader of the new colony of the Massachusetts Company, he was 
forty-two years of age, had been three times married, had attained some 
distinction in his profession, and was looked on as a man of weight and 
substance. For the greater part of the time until his death in 1649 he was 
either governor or deputy governor of the colony. 

Few of Governor Winthrop's writings were printed in his lifetime. "A 
Short Story of the Rise, reign and ruine of the Antinomians, Familists & 
Libertines that infected the Churches of New England," a somewhat viru- 
lent tract published in London in 1644, has been ascribed to him. His 
longest and most important work was a journal, which has come to be 
commonly known by the too inclusive title of "The History of New Eng- 
land." The first part of this was edited by Noah Webster and printed in 
1790; and the whole, edited by James Savage, was published in 1825, and 
again in' 1853. Both these versions modernize the spelling, etc.; and no 
literal reprint of Winthrop's manuscript has been made. The latest edition, 
by J. K. Hosmer, 1908, follows Savage's text. As in most diaries kept by 
busy men, the scale of treatment in "The History of New England" is not 
proportioned to the importance of the events; and there are many blanks 
which the author evidently intended to fill up in a leisure that never came. 
The journal is, however, one of the most valuable and readable of the docu- 
ments from which we gain a picture of early New England life, and not a 
little of its value comes from the fact that it gives so frank and delightful a 
revelation of the governor himself. "AModell of Christian Charity," a 
homily written on the voyage to America, and other of Winthrop's papers 
have been published in the collections of the Massachusetts Historical Society. 
The selections from "The History of New England" are from Savage's 
second edition. The selection from Winthrop's "Christian Experience," 
and the letters to his third wife, Margaret, are from the "Life and Letters of 
John Winthrop," by Robert C. Winthrop.] 

A HALF YEAR IN MASSACHUSETTS BAY 

[From "The History of New England" for 1630] 

Thursday, July i.] The Mayflower and the Whale arrived 
safe in Charlton harbour. Their passengers were all in health, 

44 



JOHN WINTHROP 45 

but most of their cattle dead, (whereof a mare and horse of mine). 
Some stone horses came over in good plight. 

Friday, 2.] The Talbot arrived there. She had lost fourteen 
passengers. 

My son, Henry Winthrop, was drowned at Salem. 

Saturday, 3.] The Hopewell, and WiUiam and Francis arrived. 

Monday, 5.] The Trial arrived at Charlton, and the Charles 
at Salem. 

Tuesday, 6.] The Success arrived. She had goats and 

lost of them, and many of her passengers were near 

starved, etc. 

Wednesday, 7.] The Lion went back to Salem. 

Thursday, 8.] We kept a day of thanksgiving in all the planta- 
tions. 

Thursday, August 18.] Capt. Endecott and Gibson were 

married by the governour and Mr. Wilson. 

Saturday, 20.] The French ship called the Gift, came into the 
harbour at Charlton. She had been twelve weeks at sea, and 
lost one passenger and twelve goats; she delivered six. 

Monday we kept a court. 

Friday, 27.] We, of the congregation, kept a fast, and chose 
Mr. Wilson our teacher, and Mr. Nowell an elder, and Mr. 
Gager and Mr. Aspinwall, deacons. We used imposition of 
hands, but with this protestation by all, that it was only as a 
sign of election and confirmation, not of any intent that Mr. 
Wilson should renounce his ministry he received in England. 

September 20.] Mr. Gager died. 

30.] About two in the morning, Mr. Isaac Johnson died; his 
wife, the lady Arbella, of the house of Lincoln, being dead about 
one month before. He was a holy man, and wise, and died in 
sweet peace, leaving some part of his substance to the colony. 

The wolves killed six calves at Salem, and they killed one wolf. 

Thomas Morton adjudged to be imprisoned, till he were sent 
into England, and his house burnt down, for his many injuries 
offered to the Indians, and other misdemeanours. Capt. Brook, 
master of the Gift, refused to carry him. 

Finch, of Watertown, had his wigwam burnt and all his goods. 

Billington executed at Plimouth for murdering one. 



46 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

Mr. Phillips, the minister of Watertown, and others, had their 
hay burnt. 

The wolves killed some swine at Saugus. 

A cow died at Plimouth, and a goat at Boston, with eating 
Indian corn. 

October 23.] Mr. Rossi ter, one of the assistants, died. 

25.] Mr. Colburn (who was chosen deacon by the congrega- 
tion a week before) was invested by imposition of hands of the 
minister and elder. 

The governour, upon consideration of the inconveniences 
which had grown in England by drinking one to another, re- 
strained it at his own table, and wished others to do the like, so 
as it grew, by litde and little, to disuse. 

29.] The Handmaid arrived at Plimouth, having been twelve 
weeks at sea, and spent all her masts, and of twenty-eight cows 
she lost ten. She had about sixty passengers, who came all well; 
John Grant, master. 

Mr. Goffe wrote to me, that his shipping this year had utterly 
undone him. 

She brought out twenty-eight heifers, but brought but seventeen 
alive. 

November 11.] The master came to Boston with Capt. Standish 
and two gentlemen passengers, who came to plant here, but having 
no testimony, we would not receive them. 

10.] Firmin, of Watertown, had his wigwam burnt. 

Divers had their hay-stacks burnt by burning the grass. 

27.] Three of the governour's servants were from this day to 
the I of December abroad in his skiff among the islands, in bitter 
frost and snow, being kept from home by the N. W. wind, and 
without victuals. At length they gat to Mount Wollaston, and 
left their boat there, and came home by land. Laus Deo. 

December 6.] The governour and most of the assistants, and 
others, met at Roxbury, and there agreed to build a town fortified 
upon the neck between that and Boston, and a committee was 
appointed to consider of all things requisite, etc. 

14.] The committee met at Roxbury, and upon further con- 
sideration, for reasons, it was concluded, that we could not have 
a town in the place aforesaid: i. Because men would be forced 



JOHN WINTHROP 47 

to keep two families. 2. There was no running water; and if 
there were any springs, they would not suffice the town. 3. The 
most part of the people had built already, and would not be 
able to build again. So we agreed to meet at Watertown that 
day sen'night, and in the meantime other places should be 
viewed. 

Capt. Neal and three other gentlemen came hither to us. He 
came in the bark Warwick, this summer, to Pascataqua, sent as 
governour there for Sir Ferdinando Gorges and others. 

21.] We met again at Watertown, and there, upon view of a 
place a mile beneath the town, all agreed it a fit place for a fortified 
town, and we took time to consider further about it. 

24.] Till this time there was (for the most part) fair, open 
weather, with gentle frosts in the night; but this day the wind 
came N. W., very strong, and some snow withal, but so cold as 
some had their fingers frozen, and in danger to be lost. Three 
of the governour's servants, coming in a shallop from Mistick, 
were driven by the wind upon Noddle's Island, and forced to stay 
there all that night, without fire or food; yet, through God's 
mercy, they came safe to Boston next day, but the fingers of two 
of them were blistered with cold, and one swooned when he came 
to the fire. 

26.] The rivers were frozen up, and they of Charlton could 
not come to the sermon at Boston till the afternoon at high 
water. 

Many of our cows and goats were forced to be still abroad for 
want of houses. 

28.] Richard Garrett, a shoemaker of Boston, and one of the 
congregation there, v^dth one of his daughters, a young maid, and 
four others, went towards Plimouth in a shallop, against the 
advice of his friends; and about the Gurnett's Nose the wind 
overblew so much at N. W. as they were forced to come to a 
killock at twenty fathom, but their boat drave and shaked out 
the stone, and they were put to sea, and the boat took in much 
water, which did freeze so hard as they could not free her; so 
they gave themselves for lost, and, commending themselves to 
God, they disposed themselves to die; but one of their company 
espying land near Cape Cod, they made shift to hoist up part of 



48 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

their sail, and, by God's special providence, were carried through 
the rocks to the shore, where some gat on land, but some had 
their legs frozen into the ice, so as they were forced to be cut 
out. Being come on shore they kindled a lire, but, having no 
hatchet, they could get Uttle wood, and were forced to Ue in the 
open air all night, being extremely cold. In the morning two of 
their company went towards Phmouth, (supposing it had been 
within seven or eight miles, whereas it was near fifty miles from 
them). By the way they met with two Indian squaws, who, 
coming home, told their husbands that they had met two English- 
men. They thinking (as it was) that they had been shipwrecked, 
made after them, and brought them back to their wigwam, and 
entertained them kindly; and one of them went with them the 
next day to PUmouth, and the other went to find out their boat 
and the rest of their company, which were seven miles off, and 
having found them, he holp them what he could, and returned to 
his wigwam, and fetched a hatchet, and built them a wigwam 
and covered it, and gat them wood (for they were so weak and 
frozen, as they could not stir ;) and Garrett died about two days 
after his landing; and the ground being so frozen as they could 
not dig his grave, the Indian hewed a hole about half a yard 
deep, with his hatchet, and having laid the corpse in it, he laid 
over it a great heap of wood to keep it from the wolves. By this 
time the governour of Plimouth had sent three men to them with 
provisions, who being come, and not able to launch their boat, 
(which with the strong N. W. wind was driven up to the high 
water mark,) the Indian returned to Plimouth and fetched three 
more; but before they came, they had launched their boat, and 
with a fair southerly wind were gotten to Plimouth, where an- 
other of their company died, his flesh being mortified with the 
frost; and the two who went towards Plimouth died also, one of 
them being not able to get thither, and the other had his feet so 
frozen as he died of it after. The girl escaped best, and one 
Harwood, a godly man of the congregation of Boston, lay long 
under the surgeon's hands; and it was above six weeks before 
they could get the boat from Plimouth ; and in their return they 
were much distressed; yet their boat was very well manned, the 
want whereof before was the cause of their loss. 



JOHN WINTHROP 49 

THE INSTITUTING OF A CHURCH 

[From "The History of New England" for 1635] 

Mr. Shepherd, a godly minister, come lately out of England, 
and divers other good Christians, intending to raise a church 
body, came and acquainted the magistrates therewith, who gave 
their approbation. They also sent to all the neighboring churches 
for their elders to give their assistance, at a certain day, at New- 
town, when they should constitute their body. Accordingly, at 
this day, there met a great assembly, where the proceeding was 
as foUoweth : 

Mr. Shepherd and two others (who were after to be chosen to 
office) sate together in the elder's seat. Then the elder of them 
began with prayer. After this, Mr. Shepherd prayed with deep 
confession of sin, etc., and exercised out of Eph. v. — that he 
might make it to himself a holy, etc. ; and also opened the cause 
of their meeting, etc. Then the elder desired to know of the 
churches assembled, what number were needful to make a church, 
and how they ought to proceed in this action. Whereupon some 
of the ancient ministers, conferring shortly together, gave answer: 
That the scripture did not set down any certain rule for the num- 
ber. Three (they thought) were too few, because by Matt, xviii. 
an appeal was allowed from three; but that seven might be a 
fit number. And, for their proceeding, they advised, that such 
as were to join should make confession of their faith, and declare 
what work of grace the Lord had wrought in them ; which accord- 
ingly they did, Mr. Shepherd first, then four others, then the 
elder, and one who was to be deacon, (who had also prayed,) and 
another member. Then the covenant was read, and they all 
gave a solemn assent to it. Then the elder desired of the churches, 
that, if they did approve them to be a church, they would give 
them the right hand of fellowship. Whereupon Mr. Cotton, 
(upon short speech with some others near him,) in the name of 
their churches, gave his hand to the elder, with a short speech of 
their assent, and desired the peace of the Lord Jesus to be with 
them. Then Mr. Shepherd made an exhortation to the rest of 
his body, about the nature of their covenant, and to stand firm 
to it, and commended them to the Lord in a most heavenly prayer. 



50 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

Then the elder told the assembly, that they were intended to 
choose Mr. Shepherd for their pastor, (by the name of the brother 
who had exercised,) and desired the churches, that, if they had 
any thing to except against him, they would impart it to them 
before the day of ordination. Then he gave the churches thanks 
for their assistance, and so left them to the Lord. 

A REMARKABLE PROVIDENCE 

[From "The History of New England" for 1638] 

A remarkable providence appeared in a case, which was tried 
at the last court of assistants. Divers neighbors of Lynn, by 
agreement, kept their cattle by turns. It fell out to the turn of 
one Gillow to keep them, and, as he was driving them forth, 
another of these neighbors went along with him, and kept him 
so earnestly in talk, that his cattle strayed and gate in the corn. 
Then this other neighbor left him, and would not help him re- 
cover his cattle, but went and told another how he had kept 
Gillow in talk, that he might lose his cattle, etc. The cattle, 
getting into the Indian corn, eat so much ere they could be gotten 
out, that two of them fell sick of it, and one of them died presently ; 
and these two cows were that neighbor's, who had kept Gillow 
in talk, etc. The man brings his action against Gillow for his 
cow (not knowing that he had witness of his speech) ; but Gillow, 
producing witness, etc., barred him of his action, and had good 
costs, etc. 

ON THE NATURE OF LIBERTY ^ 

[From "The History of New England" for 1645] 

I suppose something may be expected from me, upon this 
charge that is befallen me, which moves me to speak now to you; 
yet I intend not to intermeddle in the proceedings of the court, 
or with any of the persons concerned therein. Only I bless God, 

[* This is Winthrop's report of a speech which he delivered before the General 
Court after his acquittal of a charge of exceeding his powers as deputy governor. 
The account of the whole controversy, which arose from a neighborhood dispute 
over a trainband captaincy, is interesting, and significant to the student of early 
New England social and poUtical conditions, but is too long to quote entire.] 



JOHN iVINlHKuF 

that I see an issue of this troublesome business. I also ad 
edge the justice of the court, and, for mine own part, I am we) 
satisfied, I was publicly charged, and I am publicly and legally 
acquitted, which is all I did expect or desire. And though tlais 
be sufficient for my justification before men, yet not so be/ore the 
God, who hath seen so much amiss in my dispensations (and even 
in this affair) as calls me to be humble. For to be publicly and 
criminally charged in this court, is matter of humiliation, (and I 
desire to make a right use of it,) notwithstanding I be thus ac- 
quitted. If her father had spit in her face, (saith the Lord con- 
cerning Miriam,) should she not have been ashamed seven days ? 
Shame had lien upon her, whatever the occasion had been. I 
am unwilling to stay you from your urgent affairs, yet give me 
leave (upon this special occasion) to speak a little more to this 
assembly. It may be of some good use, to inform and recti'y 
the judgments of some of the people, and may prevent such dis- 
tempers as have arisen amongst us. The great questions that 
have troubled the country, are about the authority of the magis- 
trates and the liberty of the people. It is yourselves who have 
called us to this office, and being called by you, we have ou]' 
authority from God, in way of an ordinance, such as hath the 
image of God eminently stamped upon it, the conte^npt and 
violation whereof hath been vindicated with examples of divin-: 
vengeance. I entreat you to consider, that when you choose 
magistrates, you take them from among yourselves, men subject 
to like passions as you are. Therefore when you see iiifiimities 
in us, you should reflect upon your own, and that would make 
you bear the more with us, and not be severe censurers of tno 
failings of your magistrates, when you have continual expCxIence 
of the like infirmities in yourselves and others. We account him 
a good servant, who breaks not his covenant. The covenant 
between you and us is the oath you have taken of us, which is to 
this purpose, that we shall govern you and judge your causes b)' 
the rules of God's laws and our own, according to our best skill. 
When you agree vrith a workman to build you a ship or house, 
etc., he undertakes as well for his skill as for his faithfulness, foi 
it is his profession, and you pay him for both. But when you 
call one to be a magistrate, he doth not profess nor undertake * 



;2 EAULY AMERICAN WRITERS 

have sufl&cient skill for that office, nor can you furnish him with 
gifts, etc., therefore you must run the hazard of his skill and 
ability. But if he fail in faithfulness, which by his oath he is 
bound unto, that he must answer for. If it fall out that the case 
be clear to common apprehension, and the rule clear also, if he 
transgress here, the error is not in the skill, but in the evil of the 
will: it must be required of him. But if the case be doubtful, 
or the rule doubtful, to men of such understanding and parts as 
T our magistrates are, if your magistrates should err here, your- 
selves must bear it. ■- 

For the other point concerning liberty, I observe a great mis- 
take in the country about that. There is a twofold liberty, 
natural (I mean as our nature is now corrupt) and civil or federal. 
The first is common to man with beasts and other creatures. By 
this, man, as he stands in relation to man simply, hath liberty 
to do what he lists; it is a liberty to evil as well as to good. This 
liberty is incompatible and inconsistent with authority, and can- 
not endure the least restraint of the most just authority. The 
exercise and maintaining of this liberty makes men grow more 
evil, and in time to be worse than brute beasts: omnes sumus 
licentia deteriores. This is that great enemy of truth and peace, 
that wild beast, which all the ordinances of God are bent against, 
restrain and subdue it. The other kind of liberty I call civil 
ix federal, it may also be termed moral, in reference to the cove- 
nant between God and man, in the moral law, and the politic 
covenants and constitutions, amongst men themselves. This 
liberty is the proper end and object of authority, and cannot 
subsist without it; and it is a liberty to that only which is good, 
just, d,nd honest. This liberty you are to stand for, with the 
hazard (not only of your goods, but) of your lives, if need be. 
Whatsoever crosseth this, is not authority, but a distemper thereof. 
This liberty is maintained and exercised in a way of subjection 
o authority; it is of the same kind of liberty wherewith Christ 
nath made us free. The woman's own choice makes such a 
nan her husband; yet being so chosen, he is her lord, and she 
13 to be subject to him, yet in a way of Hberty, not of bondage; 
and a true wife accounts her subjection her honor and freedom, 
and would not think her condition safe and free, but in her sub- 



JOHN WINTHROP e-. 

jection to her husband's authority. Such is the liberty of the 
church under the authority of Christ, her king and husuand; his 
yoke is so easy and sweet to her as a bride's ornaments; and if 
through frowardness or wantonness, etc., she shake it o)f, at any 
time, she is at no rest in her spirit, until she take it up again; 
and whether her lord smiles upon her, and embraceth her in hi.s 
arms, or whether he frowns, or rebukes, or smites her, she' appre- 
hends the sweetness of his love in all, and is refreshed, supported, 
and instructed by every such dispensation of his authi>rity over 
her. On the other side, ye know who they are that complain of 
this yoke and say, let us break their bands, etc., we will not have 
this man to rule over us. Even so, brethren, it will be between 
you and your magistrates. If yoa stand for your natural corrupt 
liberties, and will do what is good in your own eyes, yO'i will nrit 
endure the least weight of authority, but will murmur, and oppose, 
and be always striving to shake off that yoke ; but if you will be 
satisfied to enjoy such civil and lawful liberties, such as Christ 
allows you, then will you quietly and cheerfully submit uato that 
authority which is set over you, in all the administratl« >n.s of it, 
for your good. Wherein, if we fail at any time, we hope we 
shall be willing (by God's assistance) to hearken to good advice 
from any of you, or in any other way of God; so shall }our liber- 
ties be preserved, in upholding the honor and power of luthority 
amongst you. 

SOME EDIFYING CASUALTIES 

[From "The History of New England" for 1648] 

About eight persons were drowned this winter, all 1; v- adven- • 
turing upon the ice, except three, whereof two (one of the^n being- 
far in drink) would needs pass from Boston to Winisemett in a 
small boat and a tempestuous night. This man (usim; to come 
home to Winisemett drunken) his wAie would tell him, he would 
one day be drowned, etc., but he made light of it. Another wen 
aboard a ship to make merry the last day at night, (being the 
beginning of the Lord's day,) and returning about midrig-it -vif'-, 
three of the ship's company, the boat was overset by iy<<-\'\- ' 
the ice, they guiding her by a rope, which went from t'? 



^4 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

lie shore. The seamen waded out, but the Boston man was 
browned, being a man of good conversation and hopeful of some 
work of grace begun in him, but drawn away by the seamen's 
invitation. God will be sanctified in them that come near him. 
Two others were the children of one of the church of Boston. 
While the parents were at the lecture, the boy (being about seven 
years of age,) having a small staff in his hand, ran down upon 
the ice towards a boat he saw, and the ice breaking, he fell in, 
but his staff kept him up, till his sister, about fourteen years old, 
'"an down to save her brother (though there were four men at 
hcmd, and called to her not to go, being themselves hasting to 
cave him) and so drowned herself and him also, being past 
recovery ere the men could come at them, and could easily reach 
ground with their feet. The parents had no more sons, and 
confessed they had been too indulgent towards him, and had set 
th ;ir hearts over much upon him. 

This puts me in mind of another child very strangely drowned 
a little before winter. The parents were also members of the 
C' arch of Boston. The father had undertaken to maintain the 
iij'll-dam, and being at work upon it, (with some help he had 
hi ed,) in the afternoon of the last day of the week, night came 
11; on them before they had finished what they intended, and his 
- iscience began to put him in mind of the Lord's day, and he 
w s- troubled, yet went on and wrought an hour within night. 
T; e next day, after evening exercise, and after they had supped, 
' * mother put tv/o children to bed in the room where themselves 
■ 1 1 lie, and they went out to visit a neighbor. When they re- 
iii ned, they continued about an hour in the room, and missed 
r-'o;. the child, but then the mother going to the bed, and not find- 
in her youngest child, (a daughter about five years of age,) after 
:n ch search she found it drowned in a well in her cellar; which 
w, 3 very observable, as by a special hand of God, that the child 
sh -uld go out of that room into another in the dark, and then 
frJi down at a trap door, or go down the stairs, and so into the 
W' il in the farther end of the cellar, the top of the well and the 
water being even with the ground. But the father, freely in the 
o,;n congregation, did acknowledge it the righteous hand of God 
>/ his profaning his holy day against the checks of his own 
iscience. 



JOHN WINTHROP 55 

RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCES 

[From Wlnthrop's "Christian Experience," written on his forty-ninth 

birthday] 

About 1 8 years of age, (being a man in stature, & understanding 
as my parents conceived me) I married into a family under Mr. 
Culverwell his ministry in Essex ; & living there sometimes I first 
found the ministry of the Word to come home to my heart vdth 
power, (for in all before I found only light) & after that I found 
the like in the ministry of many others. So as there began to be 
some change which I perceived in myself, & others took notice of. 
Now I began to come under strong exercises of conscience, (yet 
by fits only). I could no longer dally with religion. God put 
my soule to sad tasks sometimes, which yet the flesh would shake 
ofi', & outwear still. I had withal many sweet invitations, which 
I would willingly have entertained, but the flesh would not give 
up her interest. The merciful Lord would not thus bee answered, 
but notwithstanding all my stubbornnesse & unkind rejections of 
mercy, hee left me not till he had overcome my heart to give up 
itself to him, & to bid farewell to all the world, & until my heart 
could answer, "Lord! what wilt thou have mee doe?" 

Now came I to some peace & comfort in God & in his wayes, 
my chief delight was therein. I loved a Christian & the very 
ground hee went upon. I honoured a faythful minister in my 
heart & could have kissed his feet: Now I grew full of zeal (which 
outranne my knowledge & carried mee sometimes beyond my 
calling), & very liberall to any good work. I had an unsatiable 
thirst after the word of God & could not misse a good sermon, 
though many miles ofi', especially of such as did search deep into 
the conscience. I had also a great striving in my heart to draw 
others to God. It pitied my heart to see men so little to regard 
their soules, & to despise that happiness which I knew to be 
better than all the world besides, which stirred mee up to take 
any opportunity to draw men to God, & by successe in my endeav- 
ours I took much encouragement hereunto. But these affections 
were not constant, but very unsettled. By these occasions I grew 
to bee of some note for religion (which did not a little puff mee 
up) & divers would come to mee for advice in cases of conscience ; 



56 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

— & if I heard of any that were in trouble of mind I usually went 
to comfort them; so that upon the bent of my spirit this way Sc 
the success I found of my endeavours, I gave up myself to the 
study of Divinity, & intended to enter into the ministry, if my 
friends had not diverted me. 

But as I grew into employment & credit thereby; so I grew 
also in pride of my guifts, & under temptations which sett mee on 
work to look to my evidence more narrowly than I had done before 
(for the great change which God had wrought in mee, & the gen- 
erall approbation of good ministers & other Christians, kept me 
from making any great question of my good estate,) though my 
secret corruptions, & some tremblings of heart (which was great- 
est when I was among the most godly persons) put me to some 
plunges ; but especially when I perceived a great decay in my zeal 
& love, &c. And hearing sometimes of better assurance by the 
scale of the Spirit, which I also knew by the word of God, but 
could not, nor durst say that ever I had it ; & finding by reading 
of Mr. Perkin's & other books, that a reprobate might (in appear- 
ance) attaine to as much as I had done; finding withal much 
hoUowness & vaine glory in my heart, I began to grow very sad, 
& knew not what to do : I was ashamed to open my case to any 
minister that knew mee ; I feared it would shame myself & reli- 
gion also, that such an eminent professor as I was accounted, 
should discover such corruptions as I found in myself; & had in 
all this time attained no better evidence of salvation; & [if] I 
should prove a hypocrite, it was too late to begin anew : I should 
never repent in truth ; having repented so oft as I had done. It 
was like Hell to mee to think of that in Hebr. 6. Yet I should 
sometimes propound questions af arre off to such of the most godly 
ministers as I mett, which gave mee ease for the present, but my 
heart could not find where to rest ; but I grew very sad & melan- 
choly; & now to hear others applaud mee, was a dart through 
my liver ; for still I feared I was not sound at the root, and some- 
times I had thoughts of breaking from my profession, & proclaim 
myself an hypocrite. But these troubles came not all at once but 
by fits, for sometimes I should find refreshing in prayer, & some- 
times in the love that I had had to the Saints : which though it 
were but poor comfort (for I durst not say before the Lord that 



JOHN WINTHROP 57 

I did love them in truth), yet the Lord upheld mee, and many 
times outward occasions put these fears out of my thoughts. And 
though I had knowne long before, the Doctrine of free Justifica- 
tion by Christ, & had often urged it upon my owne soul & others, 
yet I could not close with Christ to my satisfaction. — I have 
many times striven to lay hold upon Christ in some promise, & 
have brought forth all the arguments that I had for my part in 
it. But instead of finding it to bee mine, I have lost sometimes 
the faith of the very general truth of the promise, sometimes 
after much striving by prayer for faith in Christ, I have thought 
I had received some power to apply Christ unto my soul: but 
it was so doubtfull as I could have little comfort in it, & it soon 
vanished. 

LETTERS TO MRS. WINTHROP 
I 
To Mrs. Marg. Winthrop, the elder, at Groton. 
My Faithful and Dear Wife, — It pleaseth God, that thou 
shouldst once again hear from me before our departure, and I 
hope this shall come safe to thy hands. I know it will be a great 
refreshing to thee. And blessed be his mercy, that I can write 
thee so good news, that we are all in very good health, and, hav- 
ing tried our ship's entertainment now more than a week, we find 
it agree very well with us. Our boys are well and cheerful, and 
have no mind of home. They lie both with me, and sleep as 
soundly in a rug (for we use no sheets here) as ever they did at 
Groton; and so I do myself, (I praise God). The wind hath been 
against us this week and more; but this day it has come fair to 
the north, so as we are preparing (by God's assistance) to set sail 
in the morning. We have' only four ships ready, and some two or 
three Hollanders go along with us. The rest of our fleet (being 
seven ships) will not be ready this sennight. We have spent now 
two Sabbaths on shipboard very comfortably, (God be praised,) 
and are daily more and more encouraged to look for the Lqrd's 
presence to go along with us. Henry Kingsbury hath a child or 
two in the Talbot sick of the measles, but like to do well. One of 
my men had them at Hampton, but he was soon well again. We 
are, in all our eleven ships, about seven hundred persons, pas- 



58 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

sengers, and two hundred and forty cows, and about sixty horses. 
The ship, which went from PHmouth, carried about one hundred 
and forty persons, and the ship, which goes from Bristowe, carrieth 
about eighty persons. And now (my sweet soul) I must once again 
take my last farewell of thee in Old England. It goeth very near 
to my heart to leave thee ; but I know to whom I have committed 
thee, even to him who loves thee much better than any husband 
can, who hath taken account of the hairs of thy head, and puts 
all thy tears in his bottle, who can, and (if it be for his glory) will 
bring us together again with peace and comfort. Oh, how it 
refresheth my heart, to think, that I shall yet again see thy sweet 
face in the land of the living ! — that lovely countenance, that I 
have so much delighted in, and beheld with so great content ! I 
have hitherto been so taken up with business, as I could seldom 
look back to my former happiness ; but now, when I shall be at 
some leisure, I shall not avoid the remembrance of thee, nor the 
grief for thy absence. Thou hast thy share %vith me, but I hope 
the course we have agreed upon will be some ease to us both. 
Mondays and Fridays, at five of the clock at night, we shall meet 
in spirit till we meet in person. Yet, if all these hopes should fail, 
blessed be our God, that we are assured we shall meet one day, if 
not as husband and wife, yet in a better condition. Let that stay 
and comfort thy heart. Neither can the sea drown thy husband, 
nor enemies destroy, nor any adversary deprive thee of thy hus- 
band or children. Therefore I will only take thee now and my 
sweet children in mine arras, and kiss and embrace you all, and 
so leave you with my God. Farewell, farewell. I bless you all 
in the name of the Lord Jesus. I salute my daughter Winth. 
Matt. Nan. and the rest, and all my good neighbors and friends. 
Pray all for us. Farewell. Commend my blessing to my son 
John. I cannot now write to him ; but tell him I have committed 
thee and thine to him. Labor to draw him yet nearer to God, and 
he will be the surer staff of comfort to thee. I cannot name the 
rest of my good friends, but thou canst supply it. I wrote, a week 
since, to thee and Mr. Leigh, and divers others. 
Thine wheresoever, 

Jo. WiNTHROP. 

From aboard the Arbella, riding at the Cowes, March 28, 1630. 



JOHN WINTHROP 59 

I would have written to my brother and sister Gostling, but it is 
near midnight. Let this excuse; and commend my love to them 
and all theirs. 

II 

ffor Mrs. Winthrop at her house in Boston. 

Sweet Heart, — I was unwillingly hinderd from comminge to 
thee, nor am I like to see thee before the last daye of this weeke : 
therefore I shall want a band or 2 : & cuffes. I pray thee also 
send me 6 : or 7 : leaves of Tobacco dried and powdred. Have 
care of thy selfe this colde weather, & speak to the folkes to keepe 
the goates well out of the Garden; & if my brother Peter hath 
not fetched away the sheep ramme, let them looke him up & give 
him meate, the green pease in the Garden &c are good for him: 
If any lettres be come for me send them by this bearer. I will 
trouble thee no further, the Lorde blesse & keepe thee my sweet 
wife & all our f amilye : & send us a comfortable meetinge, so I 
kisse thee & love thee ever & rest 

Thy faithfull husband, 

Jo: Winthrop 

This 6th of the 9th, 1637. 



THOMAS MORTON 

[Thomas Morton, though of no great importance as an author or as a 
man, affords a pleasing relief from the severity of most of the early New 
England writers. He was born in England about 1575, and became a 
lawyer of Clifford's Inn, London. He seems to have been in America at 
least four times, but the events of his expeditions are so confused in his own 
writings that the details of his career are hard to trace. It was on his second 
visit, in 1625, that he established himself at Mount Wollaston, or Merry 
(Ma-re) Mount. Here, with a few congenial companions, he traded with 
the Indians, and enjoyed life after his own fashion. His more austere 
neighbors charged, probably with truth, that he furnished spirits and fire- 
arms to the Indians, and that he was guilty of personal immoralities. It is 
probable, however, that their dislike for him arose in large measure from 
his ridicule of the Puritans, from his nominal adherence to the Church of 
England, and from his indulgence in abhorred English festivities, especially 
those about his famous May-pole, which he erected in 1627. Governor 
Bradford's account of his plantation, and of his arrest, has been given on an 
earlier page, and may be compared with his own story of the same occurrences 
in some of the selections that follow. After being sent to England he at once 
returned to plague the colonists, and in 1630 was again arrested and de- 
ported. It is probable that Morton was an undesirable citizen, but it is 
doubtful if he committed any serious offence punishable by English law. At 
all events he was not punished on either occasion when he was sent to Eng- 
land, but allied himself with the party that was working for the revocation 
of the Massachusetts charter, and succeeded in causing the colonists much 
trouble. On his fourth visit to America, in 1643, he was imprisoned at 
Boston for a year, ostensibly to wait for further evidence; but no further 
evidence was produced, and he was set at liberty. By this time the Puritan 
successes had destroyed the hopes of his party in England, and, broken in 
health and fortune, he retired to Agamenticus, Maine, and died there in 1646. 
His picturesque career has always appealed to students of early New England 
life, and has inspired more than one literary attempt. Especially notable 
are Motley's novel of "Merry Mount" and Hawthorne's tale, "The May- 
Pole of Merry Mount." 

Morton's only book was the "New English Canaan, or New Canaan." 
There has been considerable discussion regarding the history of this work, 
but it seems reasonably certain that it was written in 1634 or 1635, to create 
a prejudice against the Massachusetts Puritans at the time when their charter 
was attacked; and that it was first published at Amsterdam in 1637. To 
this foreign printing may be due the crudities and inaccuracies of the text, 
which is in many places obviously corrupt. 

60 



THOMAS MORTON 6l 

As is indicated on the title-page, the "New English Canaan" is divided 
into three books: "The first Booke setting forth the originall of the Natives, 
their Manners and Customes, together with their tractable Nature and Love 
towards the English. The second Booke setting forth the naturall Indow- 
ments of the Country, and what staple Commodities it yealdeth. The 
third Booke setting forth, what people are planted there, their prosperity, 
what remarkable accidents have happened since the first planting of it, to- 
gether with their Tenents and practise of their Church." The third book 
is the most interesting, and also the most obviously biased and unfair. 
Morton is notable for a certain coarse but quick-witted cleverness which 
will be observed more than once in the selections that follow. One of his 
cruder devices is that of using nicknames. Miles Standish is always "Cap- 
taine Shrimp," Governor Winthrop is "Joshua Temperwell"; "Bubble," 
"Eacus," and other characters in his narrative are less readily identified. 

The text of the following selections follows the edition made for the Prince 
Society by Charles Francis Adams, Jr., in 1883. All the selections except 
the "Dedication" are complete chapters, and the titles assigned to each 
are Morton's own chapter headings.] 

DEDICATION OF THE NEW ENGLISH CANAAN 

To the right honorable, the Lords and 

others of his Majesties most honorable privy Coun- 
cell, Commissioners, for the Government of all his 
Majesties forraigne Provinces. 
Right honorable, 

The zeale which I beare to the advauncement of the glory of 
God, the honor of his Majesty, and the good of the weale publike 
hath incouraged mee to compose this abstract, being the modell 
of a Rich, hopefull and very beautifull Country worthy the Title 
of Natures Masterpeece, and may be lost by too much suflferance. 
It is but a widowes mite, yet all that wrong and rapine hath left 
mee to bring from thence, where I have indevoured my best, 
bound by my allegeance, to doe his Majesty service. This in all 
humility I present as an offering, wherewith I prostrate my selfe 
at your honorable footstoole. If you please to vouchsafe it may 
receave a blessing from the Luster of your gracious Beames, you 
shall make your vassaile happy, in that hee yet doth live to shew 
how ready hee is, and alwayes hath bin, to sacrifice his dearest 
blood, as becometh a loyall subject, for the honor of his native 
Country. Being 

your honors humble vassaile 

1'homas Morton. 



62 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

THE GENERALL SURVEY OF THE COUNTRY 

[From "New English Canaan," Book II, Chap. I] 

In the Moneth of June, Anno Salutis 1622, it was my chaunce to 
arrive in the parts of New England with 30. Servants, and provi- 
sion of all sorts fit for a plantation : and whiles our howses were 
building, I did indeavour to take a survey of the Country: The 
more I looked, the more I liked it. And when I had more seri- 
ously considered of the bewty of the place, with all her faire in- 
dowments, I did not thinke that in all the knowne world it could 
be paralel'd, for so many goodly groves of trees, dainty fine round 
rising hillucks, delicate faire large plaines, sweete cristall foun- 
taines, and cleare running streames that twine in fine meanders 
through the meads, making so sweete a murmering noise to heare 
as would even lull the sences with delight a sleepe, so pleasantly 
doe they glide upon the pebble stones, jetting most jocundly where 
they doe meete and hand in hand runne downe to Neptunes Court, 
to pay the yearely tribute which they owe to him as soveraigne 
Lord of all the springs. Contained within the volume of the Land, 
Fowles in abundance, Fish in multitude ; and discovered, besides, 
Millions of Turtledoves one the greene boughes, which sate peck- 
ing of the full ripe pleasant grapes that were supported by the 
lusty trees, whose fruitfull loade did cause the armes to bend: 
which here and there dispersed, you might see Lillies and of the 
Daphnean-tree : which made the Land to mee seeme paradice: 
for in mine eie t'was Natures Masterpeece; Her cheifest Maga- 
zine of all where lives her store : if this Land be not rich, then is 
the whole world poore. 

What I had resolved on, I have really performed; and I have 
endeavoured to use this abstract as an instrument, to bee the 
meanes to communicate the knowledge which I have gathered, by 
my many yeares residence in those parts, unto my Countrymen: 
to the end that they may the better perceive their error, who can- 
not imagine that there is any Country in the universall world which 
may be compared unto our native soyle. I will now discover 
unto them a Country whose indowments are by learned men 
allowed to stand in a paralell with the Israelites Canaan, which 



THOMAS MORTON 67 



OF A GREAT MONSTER SUPPOSED TO BE AT MA-RE- 
MOUNT; AND THE PREPARATION MADE TO 
DESTROY IT 

[From " New English Canaan," Book III, Chap. XV] 

The Seperatists, envying the prosperity and hope of the Planta- 
tion at Ma-re Mount, (which they perceaved beganne to come 
forward, and to be in a good way for gaine in the Beaver trade,) 
conspired together against mine Host especially, (who was the 
owner of that Plantation,) and made up a party against him ; and 
mustred up what aide they could, accounting of him as of a great 
Monster. 

Many threatening speeches were given out both against his 
person and his Habitation, which they divulged should be con- 
sumed with fire : And taking advantage of the time when his com- 
pany, (which seemed little to regard theire threats,) were gone up 
into the Inlands to trade with the Salvages for Beaver, they set 
upon my honest host at a place called Wessaguscus, where, by 
accident, they found him. The inhabitants there were in good 
hope of the subvertion of the plantation at Mare Mount, (which 
they principally aymed at ;) and the rather because mine host was 
a man that indeavoured to advaunce the dignity of the Church of 
England; which they, (on the contrary part,) would laboure to 
viHfie with uncivile termes : enveying against the sacred booke of 
common prayer, and mine host that used it in a laudable manner 
amongst his family, as a practise of piety. 

There hee would be a meanes to bring sacks to their mill, (such 
is the thirst after Beaver,) and helped the conspiratores to surprise 
mine host, (who was there all alone;) and they chargded him, 
(because they would seeme to have some reasonable cause against 
him to sett a glosse upon their mallice,) with criminall things; 
which indeede had beene done by such a person, but was of their 
conspiracy; mine host demaunded of the conspirators who it was 
that was author of that information, that seemed to be their ground 
for what they now intended. And because they answered they 
would not tell him, hee as peremptorily replyed, that hee would not 
say whether he had, or he had not done as they had bin informed. 



68 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

The answere made no matter, (as it seemed,) whether it had bin 
negatively or affirmatively made; for they had resolved that hee 
should sufifer, because, (as they boasted,) they were now become 
the greater number: they had shaked of their shackles of servitude, 
and were become Masters, and masteries people. 

It appeares they were like beares whelpes in former time, when 
mine hosts plantation was of as much strength as theirs, but now, 
(theirs being stronger,) they, (like overgrowne beares,) seemed 
monsterous. In'breife, mine host must indure to be their prisoner 
untill they could contrive it so that they might send him for Eng- 
land, (as they said,) there to suffer according to the merrit of the 
fact which they intended to father upon him ; supposing, (belike,) 
it would proove a hainous crime. 

Much rejoycing was made that they had gotten their capitall 
enemy, (as they concluded him ;) whome they purposed to hamper 
in such sort that hee should not be able to uphold his plantation at 
Ma-re Mount. 

The Conspirators sported themselves at my honest host, that 
meant them no hurt, and were so joccund that they feasted their 
bodies, and fell to tippeling as if they had obtained a great prize; 
like the Trojans when they had the custody of Hippeus pinetree 
horse. 

Mine host fained greefe, and could not be perswaded either to 
eate or drinke ; because hee knew emptines would be a meanes to 
make him as watchf ull as the Geese kept in the Roman Cappitall : 
whereon, the contrary part, the conspirators would be so" drowsy 
that hee might have an opportunity to give them a slip, insteade 
of a tester. Six persons of the conspiracy were set to watch him 
at Wessaguscus : But hee kept waking; and in the dead of night, 
(one lying on the bed for further suerty,) up gets mine Host and 
got to the second dore that hee was to passe, which, notwithstand- 
ing the lock, hee got open, and shut it after him with such vio- 
lence that it affrighted some of the conspirators. 

The word, which was given with an alarme, was, 6 he's gon, he's 
gon, what shall wee doe, he's gon! The rest, (halfe a sleepe,) 
start up in a maze, and, like rames, ran theire heads one at another 
full butt in the darke. 

Theire grande leader, Captaine Shrimp, tooke on most furiously 



THOMAS MORTON 69 

and tore his clothes for anger, to see the empty nest, and their bird 
gone. 

The rest were eager to have torne theire haire from theire heads ; 
but it was so short that it would give them no hold. Now Captaine 
Shrimp thought in the losse of this prize, (which hee accoumpted 
his Master peece,) all his honor would be lost for ever. 

In the meane time mine Host was got home to Ma-re Mount 
through the woods, eight miles round about the head of the river 
Monatoquit that parted the two Plantations, finding his way by 
the helpe of the lightening, (for it thundred as hee went terribly;) 
and there hee prepared powther, three pounds dried, for his present 
imployement, and foure good gunnes for him and the two assist- 
ants left at his howse, with bullets of severall sizes, three houndred 
or thereabouts, to be used if the conspirators should pursue him 
thether : and these two persons promised theire aides in the quarrell, 
and confirmed that promise with health in good rosa solis. 

Now Captaine Shrimp, the first Captaine in the Land, (as hee 
supposed,) must doe some new act to repaire this losse, and, to 
vindicate his reputation, who had sustained blemish by this over- 
sight, begins now to study, how to repaire or survive his honor: 
in this manner, callinge of Councell, they conclude. 

Hee takes eight persons more to him, and, (like the nine Wor- 
thies of New Canaan,) they imbarque with preparation against 
Ma-re Mount, where this Monster -of a man, as theire phrase was, 
had his denne ; the whole number, had the rest not bin from home, 
being but seaven, would have given Captaine Shrimpe, (a quondam 
Drummer,) such a wellcome as would have made him wish for a 
Drume as bigg as Diogenes tubb, that hee might have crept into it 
out of sight. 

Now the nine Worthies are approached, and mine Host prepared : 
having intelligence by a Salvage, that hastened in love from 
Wessaguscus to give him notice of their intent. 

One of mine Hosts men prooved a craven: the other had 
prooved his wits to purchase a little valoure, before mine Host 
had observed his posture. 

The nine worthies comming before the Denne of this supposed 
Monster, (this seaven headed hydra, as they termed him,) and 
began, like Don Quixote against the Windmill, to beate a parly, 



70 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

and to offer quarter, if mine Host would yeald ; for they resolved 
to send him for England ; and bad him lay by his armes. 

But hee, (who was the Sonne of a Souldier,) having taken up 
armes in his just defence, replyed that hee would not lay by those 
armes, because they were so needefuU at Sea, if hee should be 
sent over. Yet, to save the effusion of so much worty bloud, as 
would have issued out of the vaynes of these 9. worthies of 
New Canaan, if mine Host should have played upon them out 
at his port holes, (for they came within danger like a flocke of 
vidld geese, as if they had bin tayled one to another, as coults to be 
sold at a faier,) mine Host was content to yeelde upon quarter; 
and did capitulate with them in what manner it should be for 
more certainety, because hee knew what Captaine Shrimpe was. 

Hee expressed that no violence should be offered to his person, 
none to his goods, nor any of his Howsehold : but that hee should 
have his armes, and what els was requisit for the voyage: which 
theire Herald retornes, it was agreed upon, and should be per- 
formed. 

But mine Host no sooner had set open the dore, and issued out, 
but instantly Captaine Shrimpe and the rest of the worthies stepped 
to him, layd hold of his armes, and had him downe: and so 
eagerly was every man bent against him, (not regarding any agree- 
ment made with such a carnall man,) that they fell upon him as if 
they would have eaten him : some of them were so violent that they 
would have a slice with scabbert, and all for haste; untill an old 
Souldier, (of the Queenes, as the Proverbe is,) that was there by 
accident, clapt his gunne under the weapons, and sharply rebuked 
these worthies for their unworthy practises. So the matter was 
taken into more deliberate consideration. 

Captaine Shrimp, and the rest of the nine worthies, made them- 
selves, (by this outragious riot,) Masters of mine Host of Ma-re 
Mount, and disposed of what hee had at his plantation. 

This they knew, (in the eye of the Salvages,) would add to their 
glory, and diminish the reputation of mine honest Host; whome 
they practised to be ridd of upon any termes, as willingly as if hee 
had bin the very Hidra of the time. 



THOMAS MORTON 7 1 

HOW THE 9. WORTHIES PUT MINE HOST OF MA-RE- 
MOUNT INTO THE INCHAUNTED CASTLE AT 
PLIMMOUTII, AND TERRIFIED HIM WITH THE 
MONSTER BRIAREUS 

[From "New English Canaan," Book III, Chap. XVI] 

The nine worthies of New Canaan having now the Law in their 
owne hands,- (there being no generall Governour in the Land; 
nor none of the Seperation that regarded the duety they owe their 
Soveraigne, whose naturall borne subjects they were, though 
translated out of Holland, from whence they had learned to worke 
all to their owne ends, and make a great shewe of Religion, but 
no humanity,) for they were now to sit in Counsell on the 
cause. 

And much it stood mine honest Host upon to be very circum- 
spect, and to take Eacus to taske; for that his voyce was more 
allowed of then both the other: and had not mine Host con- 
founded all the arguments that Eacus could make in their 
defence, and confuted him that swaied the rest, they would 
have made him unable to drinke in such manner of merriment 
any more. So that following this private counsell, given him by 
one that knew who ruled the rost, the Hiracano ceased that els 
would split his pinace. 

A conclusion was made and sentence given that mine Host 
should be sent to England a prisoner. But when hee was brought 
to the shipps for that purpose, no man durst be so foole hardy as to 
undertake carry him. So these Worthies set mine Host upon an 
Island, without gunne, powther, or shot or dogge or so much as a 
knife to get any thinge to feede upon, or any other cloathes to 
shelter him with at winter then a thinne suite which hee had one at 
that time. Home hee could not get to Ma-re Mount. Upon this 
Island hee stayed a moneth at least, and was releeved by Salvages 
that tooke notice that mine Host was a Sachem of Passonagessit, 
and would bringe bottles of strong liquor to him, and unite them- 
selves into a league of brother hood with mine Host; so full of 
humanity are these infidels before those Christians. 

From this place for England sailed mine Host in a Plimmouth 



72 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

shipp, (that came into the Land to fish upon the Coast,) that landed 
him safe in England at Plimmouth: and hee stayed in England 
untill the ordinar}' time for shipping to set forth for these parts, 
and then retomed: Noe man being able to taxe him of any 
thinge. 

But the Worthies, (in the meane time,) hoped they had bin ridd 
of him. 



"THE BAY PSALM BOOK" 

[The extreme punctiliousness of the early New England Puritans in all 
matters pertaining to worship led many of them to take ofifence at the lack 
of literalness in Sternhold and Hopkins's version of the Psalms, which was 
at first used in the churches of Massachusetts Bay. Accordingly "the chief 
Divines of the Country" undertook a new and more faithful metrical render- 
ing. The greater part of the work was done by Richard Mather, who prob- 
ably wrote the preface, Thomas Welde, and John Eliot. The result of their 
labors was published at Cambridge, in 1640, and has the distinction of being 
the first book printed in America. The title-page reads "The Whole Booke 
of Psalmes Faithfully Translated into English Aletre. Whereunto is pre- 
fixed a discourse declaring not only the lawfullnes, but also the necessity of 
the heavenly Ordinance of singing Scripture Psalmes in the Churches of 
God." The work seems always to have been known, however, as "The 
Bay Psalm Book." It was generally used in New England churches until 
it was supplanted by Watts's "Psalms and Hymns" in the middle of the 
eighteenth century; and it attained some use in England and Scotland. 

The modern reader finds it hard to understand how our forefathers 
could have endured so rough and barbarous a rendering of the Hebrew 
poems. It must be remembered that the sense of form in English verse was 
not high, as is shown by other poetic attempts of New England divines; 
that extreme reverence for the Bible blinded Christians to its literary ex- 
cellences, so that they failed to see the contrast between this rendering and 
the sonorous grandeur of the King James version; and that the one test 
imposed on this work, as a matter of sacred principle, was that of literal 
exactness. 

The selections follow the facsimile reprint of the first edition edited by 
Wilberforce Eames in 1903.] 

METRICAL TRANSLATION OF THE PSALMS DE- 
FENDED 

[From the "Preface"] 

As for the scruple that some take at the translation of the book 
of psalmes into meeter, because Davids psalmes were sung in his 
owne words without meeter : wee answer — First. There are 
many verses together in several psalmes of David which run in 
rithmes (as those that know the hebrew and as Buxtorf shews 

73 



74 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

Thesau. pa. 62.) which shews at least the lawfuUnes of singing 
psalmes in engHsh rithmes. 

Secondly. The psalmes are penned in such verses as are sutable 
to the poetry of the hebrew language, and not in the common style 
of such other bookes of the old Testament as are not poeticall; 
now no protestant doubteth but that all the bookes of the scripture 
should by Gods ordinance be extant in the mother tongue of each 
nation, that they may be understood of all, hence the psalmes are 
to be translated into our english tongue : and if in our english tongue 
we are to sing them, then as all our english songs (according to the 
course of our english poetry) do run in metre, soe ought Davids 
psalmes to be translated into meeter, that soe wee may sing the 
Lords songs, as in our English tongue soe in such verses as are 
familiar to an english eare which are commonly metricall: and 
as it can be no just offence to any good conscience, to sing Davids 
hebrew songs in english words, soe neither to sing his poeticall 
verses in english poeticall metre: men might as well stumble at 
singing the hebrew psalmes in our english tunes (and not in the 
hebrew tunes) as at singing them in english meeter, (which are our 
verses) and not in such verses as are generally used by David ac- 
cording to the poetry of the hebrew language: but the truth is, 
as the Lord hath hid from us the hebrew tunes, lest wee should 
think our selves bound to imitate them; soe also the course and 
frame (for the most part) of their hebrew poetry, that wee might not 
think our selves bound to imitate that, but that every nation vnthout 
scruple might follow as the grave sort of tunes of their owne country 
songs, soe the graver sort of verses of their owne country poetry. 

Neither let any think, that for the meetre sake wee have taken 
liberty or poeticall license to depart from the true and proper sence 
of Davids words in the hebrew verses, noe ; but it hath beene one 
part of our religious care and faithfull indeavour, to keepe close 
to the originall text. 

As for other objections taken from the difficulty of Ainsworths 
tunes, and the corruptions in our common psalme books, wee hope 
they are answered in this new edition of psalmes which wee here 
present to God and his Churches. For although wee have cause 
to blesse God in many respects for the religious indeavours of the 
translaters of the psalmes into meetre usually annexed to our 



''THE BAY PSALM BOOK" 75 

Bibles, yet it is not unknowne to the godly learned that they have 
rather presented a paraphrase then the words of David translated 
according to the rule 2 chron. 29. 30. and that their addition to 
the words, detractions from the words are not seldome and rare, 
but very frequent and many times needles, (which wee suppose 
would not be approved of if the psalmes were so translated into 
prose) and that their variations of the sense, and alterations of the 
sacred text too frequently, may justly minister matter of offence to 
them that are able to compare the translation with the text; of 
which failings, some judicious have oft complained, others have 
been grieved, whereupon it hath bin generally desired, that as wee 
doe injoye other, soe (if it were the Lords will) wee might injoye 
this ordinance also in its native purity: wee have therefore done 
our indeavour to make a plaine and familiar translation of the 
psalmes and words of David into english metre, and have not soe 
much as presumed to paraphrase to give the sense of his meaning 
in other words; we have therefore attended hcerin as our chief 
guide the originall, shunning all additions, except such as even the 
best translators of them in prose supply, avoiding all materiall 
detractions from words or scnce. The word "[" which wee translate 
and as it is redundant sometime in the Hebrew, soe somtime 
(though not very often) it hath been left out and yet not then, if 
the sence were not faire without it. 

As for our translations, wee have with our engUsh Bibles (to 
which next to the Originall wee have had respect) used the Idioms 
of our owne tongue in stead of Hebraismes, lest they might seeme 
english barbarismes. 

Synonimaes wee use indifferently: as folk for people, and Lord 
for Jehovah, and sometime (though seldome) God for Jehovah; 
for which (as for some other interpretations of places cited in the 
new Testament) we have the scriptures authority ps. 14. with 53. 
Heb. I. 6. with psalme 97. 7. Where a phrase is doubtfull wee 
have followed that which (in our owne apprehension) is most 
genuine & edifying: 

Somtime wee have contracted, somtime dilated the same hebrew 
word, both for the sence and the verse sake : which dilatation wee 
conceive to be no paraphrasticall addition no more then the con- 
traction of a true and full translation to be any unfaithfuU detrac- 



76 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

tion or diminution : as when wee dilate who healeth and say he it 
is who healeth; soe when wee contract, those that stand in awe of 
God and say Gods fearers. 

Lastly. Because some hebrew words have a more full and 
emphaticall signification then any one english word can or doth 
somtime expresse, hence wee have done that somtime which 
faithfull translators may doe, viz. not only to translate the word but 
the emphasis of it; as *7»X mighty God for God. mn humbly 
blesse for hlesse; rise to stand, psalm i. for stand truth and faith- 
fullnes for truth. Howbeit, for the verse sake wee doe not alway 
thus, yet wee render the word truly though not fully ; as when wee 
somtime say rejoyce for shout for joye. 

As for all other changes of numbers, tenses, and characters of 
speech, they are either such as the hebrew will unforcedly beare, 
or our english forceably calls for, or they no way change the sence ; 
and such are printed usually in an other character. 

If therefore the verses are not alwayes so smooth and elegant 
as some may desire or expect; let them consider that Gods Altar 
needs not our pollishings: Ex. 20. for wee have respected rather a 
plaine translation, then to smooth our verses with the sweetnes of 
any paraphrase, and soe have attended Conscience rather than 
Elegance, fidelity rather then poetry, in translating the hebrew 
words into english language, and Davids poetry into english 
meetre; that soe wee may sing in Sion the Lords songs of prayse 
according to his owne will; untill hee take us from hence and 
wipe away all our teares, & bid us enter into our masters joye 
to sing eternall Halleluliahs. 

PSALME I 

O Blessed man, that in th' advice 

of wicked doeth not walk; 
nor stand in sinners way, nor sit 

in chayre of scornfull folk, 
2 But in the law of Jehovah, 

is his longing delight: 
and in his law doth meditate, 

by day and eke by night. 



"THE BAY PSALM BOOK" 77 

3 And he shall be like to a tree 

planted by water-rivers: 
that in his season yeilds his fruit, 
and his leafe never withers. 

4 And all he doth, shall prosper well, 

the wicked are not so: 
but they are like unto the chaflfe, 
which winde drives to and fro. 

5 Therefore shall not ungodly men, 

rise to stand in the doome, 
nor shall the sinners with the just, 
in their assemblie come. 

6 For of the righteous men, the Lord 

acknowledgeth the way: 
but the way of ungodly men, 
shall utterly decay. 



PSALME 19 

The heavens doe declare 

the majesty of God: 
also the firmament shews forth 

his handy-work abroad. 
2 Day speaks to day, knowledge 

night hath to night dcclar'd. 
5 There neither speach nor language is, 

where their voyce is not heard. 
\ Through all the earth their line 

is gone forth, & unto 
the utmost end of all the world, 

their speaches reach also: 
A Tabernacle hee 

in them pitcht for the Sun. 
5 Who Bridegroom like from's chamber goes 

glad Giants-race to run. 
5 From heavens utmost end, 

his course and compassing; 



78 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

to ends of it, & from the heat 
thereof is hid nothing. 



(2) 



7 The Lords law perfect is, 

the soule converting back: 
Gods testimony faithfull is, 
makes wise who-wisdome-lack. 

8 The statutes of the Lord, 

are right, & glad the heart : 
the Lords commandement is pure, 
light doth to eyes impart. 

9 Jehovahs feare is cleane, 

and doth indure for ever: 
the judgements of the Lord are true, 
and righteous altogether. 

10 Then gold, then much fine gold, 

more to be prized are, 
then hony, & the hony-comb, 
sweeter they are by farre. 

11 Also thy servant is 

admonished from hence: 
and in the keeping of the same 
is a full recompence. 

1 2 Who can his errors know ? 

from secret faults cleanse mee. 

13 And from presumptuous-sins, let thou 

kept back thy servant bee: 
Let them not beare the rule 

in me, & then shall I 
be perfect, and shall cleansed bee 

from much iniquity. 

14 Let the words of my mouth, 

and the thoughts of my heart, 
be pleasing with thee, Lord, my Rock 
who my redeemer art. 



"THE BAY PSALM BOOK" 79 

23 A PSALME OF DAVID 

The Lord to mee a shepheard is, 

want therefore shall not I. 
Hee in the folds of tender-grasse, 

doth cause mee downe to lie: 
To waters calme me gently leads 

Restore my soule doth hee: 
he doth in paths of righteousnes: 

for his names sake leade mee. 
Yea though in valley of deaths shade 

I walk, none ill I'le feare: 
because thou are with mee, thy rod, 

and stafife my comfort are. 
For mee a table thou hast spread, 

in presence of my foes: 
thou dost annoynt my head with oyle, 

my cup it over-flowes. 
Goodnes & mercy surely shall 

all my dayes follow mee: 
and in the Lords house I shall dwell 

so long as dayes shall bee. 



PSALME 95 

O Come, let us unto the Lord 

shout loud with singing voyce, 
to the rock of our saving health 

let us make joyfull noyse. 
Before his presence let us then 

approach with thanksgiving: 
also let us triumphantly 

with Psalmes unto him sing. 
For the Lord a great God: & great 

King above all gods is. 
In whose hands are deepes of the earth, 
& strength of hills are his 



8o EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

5 The sea to him doth appertaine, 

also he made the same: 
& also the drye land is his 
for it his hands did frame. 

6 O come, & let us worship give. 

& bowing downe adore: 
he that our maker is, the Lord 
o let us kneele before. 

7 Because hee is our God, & wee 

his pasture people are, 
& of his hands the sheep: today 
if yee his voyce will heare, 

8 As in the provocation, 

o harden not your heart: 
as in day of temptation, 
within the vast desart. 

9 When mee your fathers tryde, & prov'd, 

& my works lookt upon: 

10 Fourty yeares long I griev'd was with 

this generation: 
And sayd, this people erre in heart : 
my wayes they doe not know. 

11 To whom I sware in wrath: if they 

into my rest should goe. 



PSALME lOo 

Make yee a joyfull sounding noyse 

unto Jehovah, all the earth: 
Serve yee Jehovah with gladnes: 
before his presence come with mirth. 

Know, that Jehovah he is God, 
who hath us formed it is hee, 
& not ourselves: his owne people 
& sheepe of his pasture are wee. 

Enter into his gates with prayse, 
into his Courts with thankf uUnes : 



''THE BAY PSALM BOOK" 8l 

make yee confession unto him, 
& his name reverently blesse. 
5 Because Jehovah he is good, 

for evermore is his mercy: 
& unto generations all 
continue doth his verity. 

PSALME 121 

1 I to the hills lift up mine eyes, 

from whence shall come mine aid 

2 Mine help doth from Jehovah come, 

which heav'n & earth hath made. 

3 Hee will not let thy foot be mov'd, 

nor slumber; that thee keeps. 

4 Loe hee that keepeth Israeli, 

hee slumbreth not, nor sleeps. 

5 The Lord thy keeper is, the Lord 

on thy right hand the shade. 

6 The Sun by day, nor Moone by night, 

shall thee by stroke invade. 

7 The Lord will keep the from all ill: 

thy soule hee keeps alway, 

8 Thy going out, & thy income, 

the Lord keeps now & aye. 



JOHN COTTON 

[John Cotton, perhaps the most famous in his day of the early New Eng- 
land ministers, was born in 1585. He was educated at Cambridge, where 
he first entered Trinity College, and afterward became a fellow of Emanuel. 
Here he became a Puritan, and when, later, he settled as minister of a congre- 
gation in Boston, Lincolnshire, he refused to conform to parts of the Church 
ritual. His influence was such, however, that he held his pastorate for over 
twenty years, and became famous among Puritans everywhere. It was in 
honor of the town in which he ministered that the new Boston was named. 
When he was finally ousted by Archbishop Laud, he fled to America. From 
his arrival in 1633 to his death in 1652 he was connected, as teacher and 
pastor, with the First Church of Boston. 

John Cotton was a profound and diligent student, and a voluminous 
writer, though to the reader of to-day his writings seem less interesting and 
less valuable than those of many of his contemporaries. He was the author 
of the classic catechism, "Milk for Boston Babes," ' and of many sermons 
and controversial writings. One of the most interesting controversies in 
which he was engaged was that with Roger Williams respecting persecution 
for cause of conscience. Something of his method in this discussion may be 
inferred from the selection from Williams's reply on a later page. 

The first of the following selections is from a sermon delivered at South- 
ampton before Winthrop's expedition, some three years before his own emi- 
gration. The text follows the reprint in Old South Leaflets, Number 53. 
The second selection, from "The Way of Congregational Churches cleared," 
Cotton's famous defence of the policy and method of New England Congre- 
gationalists, follows the reprint in tl;ie publications of the Prince Society, 
edited by Charles Francis Adams. The subject of this selection is of interest 
because Mrs. Hutchinson had placed Cotton in an embarrassing position by 
praising him above the other ministers. The third selection is the first part 
of a letter to Roger Williams, printed in London in 1643, but written some 
years earlier. The text is that of the reprint in the Publications of the 
Narragansett Club, 1866.] 

1 The full title is " Milk for Babes, drawn out of the Breasts of both Testa- 
ments, chiefly for the Spiritual Nourishment of Boston Babes in either England, 
but may be of use for any Children." 



82 



JOHN COTTON . ^7^ 

GOD'S PROMISE TO HIS PLANTATIONS 

[From a sermon, " God's Promise to his Plantations"] 

The placing of a people in this or that Countrey is from the ap- 
pointment of the Lord. 

This is evident in the Text,^ and the Apostle speakes of it as 
grounded in nature, Acts 17. 26. God hath determined the times 
before appointed, and the bounds of our habitation. Dut. 2 chap. 
5. 9. God would not have the Israelites meddle with the Edom- 
ites, or the Moabites, because he had given them their land for a 
possession. God assigned out such a land for such a posterity, 
and for such a time. 

Quest. Wherein doth this worke of God stand in appointing a 
place for a people ? 

Ansiv. First, when God espies or discovers a land for a people, 
as in Ezek. 20. 6. he brought them into a land that he had espied for 
them : And that is, when either he gives them to discover it them- 
selves, or heare of it discovered by others, and fitting them. 

Secondly, after he hath espied it, when he carrieth them along 
to it, so that they plainly see a providence of God leading them 
from one Country to another : As in Exod. 19. 4. You have seene 
how I have borne you as on Eagles wings, and brought you unto my 
selfe. So that though they met with many difficulties, yet hee 
carried them high above them all, like an eagle, flying over seas 
and rockes, and all hindrances. 

Thirdly, when he makes roome for a people to dwell there, as in 
Psal. 80. 9. Thou preparedst roome for them. When Isaac so- 
journed among the Philistines, he digged one well, and the Philis- 
tines strove for it, and he called it Esek. and he digged another well, 
and for that they strove also, therefore he called it Sitnah: and 
he removed thence, and digged an other well, and foj that they 
strove not, and he called it Rohoboth, and said. For now the Lord 
hath made roomeefor us, and we shall befruitfull in the Land. Now 
no Esek, no Sitnah, no quarrel or contention, but now he sits downe 
in Rohoboth in a peaceable roome. 

Now God makes room for a people 3 wayes: 

• [2 Sam. vii, lo.l 



84 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

First, when he casts out the enemies of a people before them by 
lawfull warre with the inhabitants, which God cals them unto : as 
in Ps. 44. 2. Thou didst drive out the heathen before them. But 
this course of warring against others, & driving them out without 
provocation, depends upon speciall Commission from God, or 
else it is not imitable. 

Secondly, when he gives a forraigne people favour in the eyes 
of any native people to come and sit downe with them either by 
way of purchase, as Abraham did obtaine the field of Machpelah; 
or else when they give it in courtesie, as Pharaoh did the land of 
Goshen unto the sons of Jacob. 

Thirdly, when hee makes a Countrey though not altogether void 
of inhabitants, yet voyd in that place where they reside. Where 
there is a vacant place, there is liberty for the sonne of Adam or 
Noah to come and inhabite, though they neither buy it, nor aske 
their leaves. Abraham and Isaac, when they sojourned ^ amongst 
the Philistines, they did not buy that land to feede their cattle, 
because they said There is roome enough. And so did Jacob 
pitch his tent by Sechem, Gen. 34. 21. There was roome enough 
as Hamor said, Let them sit down amongst us. And in this case if 
the people who were former inhabitants did disturbe them in their 
possessions, they complained to the King, as of wrong done unto 
them: As Abraham did because they took away his well, in Gen. 
21, 25. For his right whereto he pleaded not his immediate calling 
from God, (for that would have seemed frivolous amongst the 
Heathen) but his owne industry and culture in digging the well, 
verse 30. Nor doth the King reject his plea, with what had he to 
doe to digge wells in their soyle ? but admitteth it as a Principle in 
Nature, That in a vacant soyle, hee that taketh possession of it, 
and bestoweth culture and husbandry upon it, his Right it is. 
And the ground of this is from the grand Charter given to Adam 
and his posterity in Paradise, Gen. i. 28. Multiply, and replenish 
the earth, and subdue it. If therefore any sonne of Adam come and 

* This sojourning was a constant residence there, as in a possession of their 
owne; although it be called sojourning or dwelling as strangers, because they 
neither had the soveraigne government of the whole Countrey in their owne hand, 
nor yet did incorporate themselves into the Commonwealth of the Natives, to 
submit themselves unto their government. 



JOHN COTTON 85 

finde a place empty, he hath liberty to come, and fill, and subdue 
the earth there. This Charter was renewed to Noah, Gen. 9. i. 
Fulfill the earth and multiply: So that it is free from that comon 
Grant for any to take possession of vacant Countries. Indeed no 
Nation is to drive out another without speciall Commission from 
heaven, such as the Israelites had, unless the Natives do un- 
justly wrong them, and will not recompence the wrongs done in 
peaceable sort, & then the}^ may right themselves by lawfull war, 
and subdue the Countrey unto themselves. 

This placeing of people in this or that Countrey, is from Gods 
soveraignty over all the earth, and the inhabitants thereof: as in 
Psal. 24. I The earth is the Lords, and thefulnesse thereof. And in 
Jer. 10. 7. God is there called. The King of Nations: and in 
Deut. 10. 14. Therefore it is meete he should provide a place for 
all Nations to inhabite, and have all the earth replenished. Onely 
in the Text here is meant some more speciall appointment, because 
God tells them it by his owne mouth ; he doth not so with other 
people, he doth not tell the children of Sier, that hee hath appointed 
a place for them: that is, He gives them the land by promise; 
others take the land by his providence, but Gods people take the 
land by promise: And therefore the land of Canaan is called a 
land of promise. Which they discerne, first, by discerning them- 
selves to be in Christ, in whom all the promises are yea, and amen. 

Secondly, by finding his holy presence with them, to wit, when 
he plants them in the holy Mountaine of his Inheritance : Exodus. 
15. 17. And that is when he giveth them the Hberty and purity 
of his Ordinances. It is a land of promise, where they have pro- 
vision for soule as well as for body. Ruth dwelt well for outward 
respects while shee dwelt in Moab, but when shee cometh to dwell 
in Israel, shee is said to come under the wings of God : Ruth 2. 12. 
When God wrappes us in with his Ordinances, and warmes us 
with the Hfe and power of them as with wings, there is a land of 
promise. 

This may teach us all where we doe now dwell, or where after 
wee may dwell, be sure you looke at every place appointed to you, 
from the hand of God: wee may not rush into any place, and 
never say to God, By your leave ; but we must discerne how God 
appoints us this place. There is poore comfort in sitting down 



86 EARLY AM ERIC AX WRITERS 

in any place, that you cannot say, This place 15 appointed me of 
God. Canst thou say that God spied out this place for thee, and 
there hath setled thee above all hinderances? didst thou finde 
that God made roome for thee either by lawfull descent, or pur- 
chase, or gift, or other warrantable right? Why then this is the 
place God hath appointed thee; here hee hath made roome for 
thee, he hath placed thee in RehobotJi, in a peaceable place: This 
'.ve must discerne, or els we are but intruders upon God. And 
when wee doe withall discerne, that God giveth us these outward 
blessings from his love in Christ, and maketh comfortable provi- 
sion as well for our soule as for our bodies, by the meanes of grace, 
then doe v.-e enjoy our present possession as well by gracious 
promise, as by the common, and just, and bountifuU providence 
of the Lord. Or if a man doe remove he must see that God hath 
espied out such a Countrey for him. 

Secondly, though there be many difl&culties yet he hath given 
us hearts to overlook them all, as if we were carried upon eagles 
wings. 

And thirdly, see God making roome for us by some lawfull 
means. 

Quest. But how shall I know whether God hath appointed me 
such a place, if I be well v/here I am, what may warrant my 
re move all ? 

Answ. There be foure or five good things, for procurement of 
any of which I may remove. Secondly, there be some e\'ill 
things, for avoiding of any of which wee may transplant our- 
selves. Thirdly, if withall we find some speciall pro\ndence of 
God concurring in either of both concerning our selves, and apply- 
ing general grounds of removall to our personall estate. 

First, wee may remove for the gaining of knowledge. Our 
Saviour commends it in the Queene of the south, that she came 
from the utmost parts of the earth to heare the wisdom of Solomon : 
Matth. 12. 42. And surely v/ith him she might have continued 
for the same end, if her personall calling had not recalled her 
home. 

Secondly, some remove and travaile for merchandize and gaine- 
sake; Daily bread may he sought from Jarre, Prov. 31. 14. Yea 
our Saviour approveth travaile for Merchants, Matfh. 13. 45, 46. 



JOHN COTTON 87 

when hee compareth a Christian to a Merchantman seeking 
pearles: For he never fetcheth a comparison from any unlawfull 
thing to illustrate a thing lawfuU. The comparison from the 
unjust Steward, and from the Theefe in the night, is not taken from 
the injustice of the one, or the theft of the other; but from the 
wisdome of the one, and the sodainnesse of the other; which in 
themselves are not unlawfull. 

Thirdly, to plant a Colony, that is, a company that agree to- 
gether to remove out of their owne Country, and settle a Citty or 
commonwealth elsewhere. Of such a Colony wee reade in Acts 
16. 12. which God blessed and prospered exceedingly, and made it 
a glorious Church. Nature teachcth Bees to doe so, when as the 
hive is too full, they seeke abroad for new dwellings: So when 
the hive of the Common wealth is so full, that Tradesmen cannot 
live one by another, but eate up one another, in this case it is law- 
full to remo\e. 

Fourthly, God alloweth a man to remove, when he may employ 
his Talents and gift better elsewhere, especially when where he is, 
he is not bound by any speciall engagement. Thus God sent 
Joseph before to preserve the Church: Josephs wisedome and 
spirit was not fit for a shepheard, but for a Counsellour of State, 
and therefore God sent him into Egypt. To whom much is given 
of him God will require the more: Luk 12. 48. 

Fifthly, for the liberty of the Ordinances. 2 Chron. 11. 13, 14, 
15. When Jeroboam made a desertion from Judah, and set up 
golden Calves to worship, all that were well affected, both Priests 
and people, sold their possessions, and came to Jerusalem for the 
Ordinances sake. This case was of seasonable use to our fathers 
in the dayes of Queene Mary; who removed to France and Ger- 
many in the beginning of her Reign, upon Proclamation of altera- 
tion of religion, before any persecution began. 

Secondly, there be evills to be avoyded that may warrant re- 
moveall. First, when some grievous sinnes overspread a Coun- 
try that threaten desolation. Mic. 2. 6 to 11 verse: When the 
people say to them that prophecie, Prophecie not; then verse 10. 
Arise then, this is not your rest. Which words though they be a 
threatning, not a commandement ; yet as in a threatning a v\ase 
man foreseeth the plague, so in the threatning he seeth a com- 



88 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

mande merit, to hide himself e from it. This case might have been 
of seasonable use unto them of the Palatinate, when they saw their 
Orthodox Ministers banished, although themselves might for a 
while enjoy libertie of conscience. 

Secondly, if men be overburdened with debts and miseries, as 
Davids followers were; they may then retire out of the way (as 
they retired to David for safety) not to defraud their creditors (for 
God is an avenger of such things, i Thess. 4. 6.) but to gaine fur- 
ther opportunity to discharge their debts, and to satisfie their 
Creditors, i Sam. 22. i, 2. 

Thirdly, in case of persecution, so did the Apostle in ^c/5 13. 46, 

47- 

Thirdly, as these generall cases, where any of them doe fall out, 
doe warrant removeall in generall: so there be some speciall 
providences or particular cases which may give warrant unto such 
or such a person to transplant himselfe, and which apply the former 
generall grounds to particular persons. 

First, if soveraigne Authority command and encourage such 
Plantations by giving way to subjects to transplant themselves, 
and set up a new Commonwealth. This is a lawfull and expedi- 
ent case for such particular persons as be designed and sent: 
Matth. 8. 9. and for such as they who are sent, have power to 
command. 

Secondly, when some speciall providence of God leades a man 
unto such a course. This may also single out particulars. Psal. 
32. 8. I will instruct, and guide thee with mine eye. As the childe 
knowes the pleasure of his father in his eye, so doth the child of 
God see Gods pleasure in the eye of his heavenly Fathers provi- 
dence. And this is done in three wayes. 

First, if God give a man an inclination to this or that course, 
for that is the spirit of man ; and God is the father of spirits : Rom. 
I. II, 12. I Cor. 16. 12. Paul discerned his calling to goe to Rom, 
by his TO Trpodvfxov, his ready inclination to that voyage ; and 
A polios his loathing to goe to Corinth, Paul accepted as a just 
reason of his refusall of a calling to goe thither. And this holdeth, 
when in a mans inclination to travaile, his heart is set on no by- 
respects, as to see fashions, to deceive his Creditours, to fight 
Duels, or to Hve idly, these are vaine incHnations; but if his heart 



JOHN COTTON 89 

be inclined upon rigiit judgement to advance the Gospell, to main- 
taine his family, to use his Talents fruitfully, or the Hke good end, 
this inclination is from God. As the beames of the Moone dart- 
ing into the Sea leades it to and fro, so doth a secret incHnation 
darted by God into our hearts leade and bowe (as a byas) our 
whole course. 

Secondly, when God gives other men hearts to call us as the 
men of Mecedoii did Paul, Come to us into Macedonia, and helpe 
us. When wee are invited by others who have a good calling to 
reside there, we may goe with them, unlesse we be detained by 
waightier occasions. One member hath interest in another, to 
call to it for helpe, when it is not diverted by greater employment. 

Thirdly, there is another providence of God concurring in both 
these, that is, when a mans calling and person is free, and not tyed 
by parents, or Magistrates, or other people that have interest in 
him. Or when abroad hee may doe himselfe and others more good 
than he can doe at home. Here is then an eye of God that opens 
a doore there, and sets him loose here, inclines his heart that way, 
and outlookes all difficulties. When God makes roome for us, no 
binding here, and an open way there, in such a case God tells 
them, he will appoint a place for them. 

AN ACCOUNT OF MRS. ANNE HUTCHINSON 

[From "The Way of Congregational Churches Cleared"] 

At her first comming she was well respected and esteemed of me, 
not onely because herself and her family were well beloved in 
England at Allford in Lincolnshire (not far beyond Boston:) nor 
onely because she with her family came over hither (as was said) 
for conscience sake : but chiefly for that I heard, shee did much 
good in our Town, in womans meeting at Childbirth-Travells, 
wherein shee was not onely skilfull and helpfull, but readily fell 
into good discourse with the women about their spirituall estates: 
And therein cleared it unto them. That the soul lying under a 
Spirit of Bondage, might see and sensibly feel the hainous guilt, 
and deep desert of sin, and thereby not onely undergoe affiiction 
of Spirit but also receive both restraining, and constraining 



90 



EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 



Grace likewise, (in some measure:) restraining from all known 
evill (both courses, and companies) (at least for a season) and 
constraining to all knowen duties, as secret Prayer, Family Exer- 
cises, Conscience of Sabbaths, Reverence of Ministers, Frequent- 
ing of Sermons, Diligence in calling, honesty in dealing and the 
like : yea and that the Soul might find some tastes and flashes of 
spirituall comfort in this estate, and yet never see or feel the need 
of Christ, much lesse attain any saving Union, or Communion 
with him, being no more but Legall work, even what the Law, and 
the Spirit of bondage (breathing in it) might reach unto. By 
which means many of the women (and by them their husbands) 
were convinced, that they had gone on in a Covenant of Works, 
and were much shaken and humbled thereby, and brought to 
enquire more seriously after the Lord Jesus Christ, without whom 
all their Gifts and Graces would prove but common, and their 
duties but legall, and in the end wizzen and vanish. All this was 
well (as is reported truely, page 31 of her Story) and suited with 
the publike Ministery, which had gone along in the same way, so 
as these private conferences did well tend to water the seeds pub- 
likely sowen. Whereupon all the faithfull embraced her con- 
ference, and blessed God for her fruitfuU discourses. And many 
whose spirituall estates were not so safely layed, yet were hereby 
helped and awakened to discover their sandy foundations, and to 
seek for better establishment in Christ: which caused them also 
to blesse the Lord for the good successe, which appeared to them 
by this discovery. 

Hitherto therefore shee wrought with God, and with the Min- 
isters, the work of the Lord. No marvell therefore if at that 
time, shee found loving and dear respect both from our Church- 
Elders and Brethren, and so from my self also amongst the rest. 

Afterwards, it is true, she turned aside not only to corrupt 
opinions, but to dis-esteem generally the Elders of the churches, 
(though of them shee esteemed best of Mr. Shepheard:) and for my 
selfe, (in the repetitions of Sermons in her house) what shee repeated 
and confirmed, was accounted sound, what shee omitted, was 
accounted Apocrypha. This change of hers was long hid from 
me: and much longer the evidence of it, by any two clear wit- 
nesses. I sent some Sisters of the Church on purpose to her 



JOHN COTTON 9I 

Repetitions, that I might know the truth: but when shee dis- 
cerned any such present, no speech fell from her, that could be 
much excepted against. But further discourse about her course 
is not pertinent to the present businesse. But by this Mr. Baylie 
may disceme, how farre Ms. Hutchinson was dear unto mee, and 
if hee speak of her as my deare friend, till shee turned aside, 
I refuse it not. 

But yet thus much I must professe to him, That in the times of 
her best acceptance, shee was not so dear unto mee, but that (by 
the help of Christ) I dealt faithfully with her about her spirituall 
estate. Three things I told her, made her spirituall estate un- 
clear to mee. i. "That her Faith was not begotten nor (by her 
"relation) scarce at any time strengthened by publick Ministry, 
"but by private Meditations, or Revelations onely. 

"2. That shee clearly discerned her Justification (as shee 
"professed :) but little or nothing at all, her Sanctification : though 
" (she said) shee beleeved, such a thing there was by plain Scripture. 

"3. That she was more sharply censorious of other mens spir- 
"ituall estates and hearts, then the servants of God are wont to 
"be, who are more taken up with judging of themselves before the 
"Lord, then of others." 

AN ADMONITION TO ROGER WILLIAMS 

[From "A Letter of Mr. John Cottons, Teacher of the Church in Boston, in 
New-England, to Mr. Williams a Preacher there"] 

Beloved in Christ, 

Though I have Uttle hope (when I consider the uncircumcision 
of mine owne lips, Exod. 6. 12.) that you will hearken to my voyce, 
who hath not hearkened to the body of the whole Church of Christ, 
with you, and the testimony, and judgement of so many Elders 
and Brethren of other Churches, yet I trust my labour will be 
accepted of the Lord ; and who can tell but that he may blesse it 
to you also, if (by his helpe) I indevour to shew you the sandinesse 
of those grounds, out of which you have banished yours from the 
fellowship of all the Churches in these Countries. Let not any 
prejudice against my person (I beseech you) forestall either your 
affection or judgement, as if I had hastened forward the sentence 



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EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 



of your civill banishment ; for what was done by the Magistrates, 
in that kinde, was neither done by my counsell nor consent, 
although I dare not deny the sentence passed to be righteous in 
the eyes of God, who hath said -that he that with-holdeth the Corne 
(which is the staffe of Hfe) from the people, the multitude shall 
curse him, Prov. ii. 26. how much more shall they separate such 
from them as doe with-hold and separate them from the Ordinances 
or the Ordinances from them (which are in Christ the bread of life). 
And yet it may be they passed that sentence against you not upon 
that ground, but for ought I know, upon your other corrupt doc- 
trines, which tend to the disturbance both of civill and holy peace, 
as may appeare by that answer which was sent to the Brethren of 
the Church of Salem, and to your selfe. And to speake freely 
what I thinke, were my soule in your soules stead, I should thinke 
it a worke of mercy of God to banish me from the civill society of 
such a Common wealth, when I could not in joy holy fellowship 
with any Church of God amongst them without sin. What 
should the Daughter of Zion doe in Bahell? why should she not 
hasten to flee from thence ? Zach. 2. 6, 7. 

I speake not these things (the God of Truth is my witnes) to 
adde afHiction to your affliction, but (if it were the holy will of God) 
to move you to a more serious sight of your sin, and of the justice 
of Gods hand against it. Against your corrupt Doctrines, it 
pleased the Lord Jesus to fight against you with the sword of his 
mouth (as himselfe speaketh, Rev. 2. 16.) in the mouthes and tes- 
timonies of the Churches and Brethren. Against whom, when you 
over-heated your selfe in reasoning and disputing against the light 
of his truth, it pleased him to stop your mouth by a suddaine dis- 
ease, and to threaten to take your breath from you. But you in 
stead of recoyling (as even Balaam offered to doe in the like case) 
you chose rather to persist in your way, and to protest against all 
the Churches and Brethren that stood in your way: and thus the 
good hand of Christ that should have humbled you, to see and 
turne from the errour of your way, hath rather hardened you 
therein, and quickned you onely to see failings (yea intolerable 
errours) in all the Churches and brethren, rather then in your 
selfe. ' In which course though you say you doe not remember an 
houre wherein the countenance of the Lord was darkned to you, 



JOHN COTTON 93 

yet be not deceived, it is no new thing with Satan to transforme 
himselfe into an Angell of Hght, and to cheare the soule with false 
peace, and with flashes of counterfeit consolation. Sad and wo- 
full is the memory of Master Smiths strong consolations on his 
death-bed, which are set as a Seale to the grosse and damnable 
Arminianisme and Enthusiasmes delivered in the confession of his 
faith, prefixed to the story of his life and death. The counte- 
nance of God is upon his people when they feare him, not when 
they presume of their owne strength; and his consolations are 
found not in the way of presidence in errour, but in the wayes of 
humihty and truth. 

Two stumbling blockes (I perceive by your letter) have turned 
you off from fellowship with us. First, the want of fit matter 
of our Church. Secondly, disrespect of the separate Churches in 
England under aflflictions, who doe our selves practise separation 
in peace. 

* For the first, you acknowledge (as you say) with joy that 
'godly persons are the visible matter of these Churches, but yet 
'you see not that godly persons are matter fitted to constitute a 
' Church, no more then trees or Quarries are fit matter propor- 
'tioned to the building.' 

Answ. This exception seemeth to mee to imply a contradiction 
to it selfe, for if the matter of our Churches be as you say godly 
persons, they are not then as trees unfelled, or stones unhewen. 
Godlinesse cutteth men downe from the former roote, and heweth 
them out of the pit of corrupt nature, and fitteth them for fellow- 
ship with Christ and with his people. 



ROGER WILLIx\MS 

[Roger Williams, famous as the founder of Rhode Island and the chief 
advocate of religious toleration in early New England, was born in Wales 
in 1599. He studied at Pembroke College, Cambridge, and took orders in 
the Church of England, but soon became a Puritan. In 1630 he sailed for 
America, and served as minister at Salem, and for a time at Plymouth. His 
views on religious and political matters became more radical, and after va- 
rious less drastic proceedings it was resolved to send him to England as a 
dangerous man. He eluded the officers, and took refuge among the Indians, 
with whom he was always on friendly terms. In 1636 he established a 
settlement at Providence, and afterward secured a charter for the colony of 
Rhode Island. He continued as a leading spirit in this colony until his 
death in 1683. 

Roger Williams was a man of wide interests, and of intense and some- 
times erratic beliefs. He was especially stanch in maintaining that the 
colonists had no right to their lands until they had acquired them of the 
Indians by purchase, and in arguing for religious toleration. The latter 
subject he debated with John Cotton in one of the most famous of early 
New England controversies. A prisoner in Newgate, confined because of 
his religious belief, had written a "letter" arguing against persecution for 
cause of conscience. A copy of this was sent to John Cotton, who wrote a 
reply. In answer to this Williams wrote in 1643-1644 "The Bloudy Ten- 
ant of Persecution for cause of Conscience, discussed in a Conference be- 
tweene Truth and Peace." Cotton responded with "The Bloody Tenent 
washed and made white in the Blood of the Lamb"; and Williams pub- 
lished as a rejoinder "The Bloody Tenent yet More Bloody: by Mr. Cottons 
endevour to wash it white in the Blood of the Lambe." The selection from 
"The Bloody Tenent" which follows will illustrate the method of religious 
controversy of the time — the reliance on the letter even more than the spirit 
of Scripture, and the minute and exhaustive study of figurative passages in 
an attempt to throw light on practical questions. Though Williams was 
always consistent in preaching and practising religious toleration, so far as 
actual persecution was concerned, he was not always charitable towards the 
beliefs of others. It was chiefly due to his efforts that the Quakers were 
permitted in Rhode Island ; but in " George Fox Digg'd out of his Burrowes," 
his account of ■an oral debate which he held with champions of the Quakers 
at Newport, he is often bitter and vituperative. Besides the works already 
mentioned, Roger Williams wrote a key to the Indian languages, other con- 
troversial and religious works, and many letters, some of them of great 
interest. 

94 



ROGER WILLIAMS 95 

The selections given follow the reprints of Williams's works in the "Pub- 
lications of the Narragansett Club," Vols. Ill, IV, and V.] 



THE MEANING OF THE PARABLE OF THE TARES 

. [From "The Bloudy Tenent of Persecution" '] 

Peace. We are now come to the second part of the Answer, 
which is a particular examination of such grounds as are brought 
against such persecution. 

The first sort of grounds are from the Scriptures. 

Chap. XVIII 

First, Matth. 13. 30, 38. because Christ commandeth to let 
alone the Tares to grow up together with the Wheat, untill the 
Harvest. 

Unto which he ^ answereth : That Tares are not Bryars and 
Thornes, but partly Hypocrites, like unto the godly, but indeed 
carnall (as the Tares are like to Wheat, but are not Wheat,) or 
partly such corrupt doctrines or practices as are indeed unsound, 
but yet such as come very near the truth (as Tares do to the 
Wheat) and so neer that good men may be taken with them, and 
so the persons in whom they grow cannot bee rooted out, but 
good Wheat will be rooted out with them. In such a case (saith 
he) Christ calleth for peaceable toleration, and not for penall 
prosecution, according to the third Conclusion. 

Truth. The substance of this Answer I conceive to be first 
negative, that by Tares are not meant persons of another Religion 
and Worship, that is (saith he) they are not Briars and Thornes. 

Secondly, affirmative, by Tares are meant either persons, or 
doctrines, or practices; persons, as hypocrites, like the godly: 
doctrines or practices corrupt, yet like the truth. 

P Both " The Bloudy Tenent " and "The Bloudy Tenent yet more Bloudy" 
were originally printed with a marginal gloss that summarized the argument. 
This is omitted in the selections here given.] 

P John Cotton. The first paragraph of the chapter is a paraphrase of the 
statement by the prisoner in Newgate whose paper started the controversy (see 
introduction). The second paragraph is almost a literal quotation of Cotton's 
reply.] 



96 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

For answer hereunto I confesse that not onely those worthy 
witnesses (whose memories are sweet with all that feare God) 
Calvin, Beza, &"€. but of later times many conjoyne with this 
worthy Answerer, to satisfie themselves and others with such an 
Interpretation. 

But alas, how darke is the soule left that desires to walke with 
the Lord in holy feare and trembling, when in such a waighty 
and mighty point as this is, that in matters of conscience con- 
cerneth the spilling of the hloud of thousands, and the Civill 
Peace of the World in the taking up Armes to suppresse all false 
Religions/ when I say no evidence or demonstration of the Spirit 
is brought to prove such an interpretation, nor Arguments from 
the place it self e or the Scriptures of truth to confirme it ; but a 
bare Affirmation that these Tares must signifie persons, or doc- 
trines and practices. 

I vnll not imagine any deceitfuU purpose in the Answerers 
thoughts in the proposall of these three, persons, doctrines, or 
practices, yet dare I confidently avouch that the Old Serpent hath 
deceived their precious soules, and by Tongue and Pen would 
deceive the soules of others by such a metliod of dividing the 
word of truth. A threefold Cord, and so a threefold Snare, is 
strong, and too like it is that one of the three, either Persons, 
Doctrines, or Practices may catch some feet. 

Chap. XIX 

Peace. The place then being of such great importance as 
concerning the truth of God, the hloud of thousands, yea the bloud 
of Saints, and of the Lord Jesus in them, I shall request your 
more diligent search (by the Lords holy assistance) into this 
Scripture. 

[Truth.] I shall make it evident, that by these Tares in this 
Parable are meant persons in respect of their Religion and way 
of Worship, open and visible professours, as bad as briars and 
thornes; not onely suspected Foxes, but as bad as those greedy 
Wolves which Paul speakes of, Acts 20. who with perverse and 
evill doctrines labour spiritually to devoure the flocke, and to 
draw away Disciples after them, whose mouthes must be stopped. 



ROGER WILLIAMS 97 

and yet no carnall /orce or weapon to be used against them, but 
their mischiefe to bee resisted with those mighty weapons of the 
holy Armoury of the Lord Jesus, wherein there hangs a thousand 
shields, Cant. 4. 

That the Lord Jesus intendeth not doctrines or practices by the 
tares in this Parable is cleare: for 

First, the Lord Jesus expresly interpreteth the good seed to be 
persons, and those the children of the Kingdome; and the tares 
also to signifie Men, and those the cJiildren of the Wicked one, 
ver. 38. 

Secondly, such corrupt doctrines or practices are not to bee 
tolorated now as those Jewish observations (the Lords owne 
Ordinances) were for a while to be permitted, Rom. 14. Nor so 
long as till the Angels the Reapers come to reape the Harvest in 
the end of the world. For can we thinke that because the tender 
Consciences of the Jewes were to be tendred in their differences 
of meats, that therefore persons must now bee tolerated in the 
Church (for I speake not of the Civill State) and that to the 
worlds end, in superstitious forbearing and forbidding oi flesh in 
Popish Lents, and superstitious Fridayes, d^c. and that because 
they were to be tendred in their observation of Jewish Holidayes, 
that therefore untill the Harvest or Worlds end, persons must 
now be tolerated (I meane in the Church) in the observation of 
Popish Christmas, Easter, Whitsontide, and other superstitious 
Popish Festivals? 

I willingly acknowledge, that if the members of a Church of 
Christ shall upon some delusion of Sathan kneele at the Lords 
Supper, keep Christmas, or any other Popish observation, great 
tendernesse ought to bee used in winning his soule from the 
errour of his way: and yet I see not that persons so practising 
were fit to be received into the Churches of Christ now, as the 
Jews weake in the Faith, (that is, in the Liberties of Christ) were 
to be received, Rom. 14. i. And least of all (as before) that the 
toleration or permission of such ought to continue till Doomes 
day, or the end of the world, as this Parable urgeth the Tolera- 
tion; Let them alone untill the Harvest. 



98 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

Chap. XX 

Againe, Hypocrites were not intended by the Lord Jesus in this 
famous Parable. 

First, the Originall word ^i^avta, signifying all those Weeds 
which spring up with the Come, as Cockle, Darnell, Tares, 6-c. 
seemes to imply such a kinde of people as commonly and generally 
are knowne to bee manifestly different from, and opposite to the 
true worshippers of God, here called the children of the Kingdom; 
as these weeds, tares, cockle, darnell, &'c. are commonly and 
presently knowne by every husbandman to differ from the wheat, 
and to be opposite, and contrary, and hurtfull unto it. 

Now whereas it is pleaded that these tares are like the wheat, 
and so like that this consimilitude or likenesse is made the ground 
of this interpretation, viz. That tares must needs signifie hypocrites, 
or doctrines, or practices, who are like Gods children, Truth, &'c. 

I answer, first, the Parable holds forth no such thing, that the 
likenesse of the tares should deceive the servants to cause them 
to suppose for a time that they were good wheat, but that as 
soone as ever the tares appeared, ver. 26. the servants came to 
the housholder about them, ver. 27. the Scripture holds forth no 
such time wherein they doubted or suspected what they were. 

Peace. It may be said they did not appeare to be tares untill 
the come was in the blade, and put forth its fruit. 

Truth. I answer,^ The one appeared as soone as the other, 
for so the word clearly carries it, that the seed of both having 
been sowne, when the wheat appeared and put forth its blade 
and fruit, the tares also were as early, and put forth themselves 
as appeared also. 

Secondly, there is such a dissimilitude or unlikenesse, I say 
such a dissimilitude, that as soone as tares and wheat are sprung 
up to blade and fruit, every husbandman can tell which is wheat, 
and which are tares and cockle, &'c. 

Peace. It may be said true: So when the hypocrite is mani- 
fested, then all may know him, dfc, but before hypocrites be 
manifested hy fruits they are unknowne. 

• The false and counterfeit Christians appeare as soon as the true and faith- 
full. 



ROGER WILLIAMS 99 

[Truth.] I answer, search into the Parable, and aske when 
was it that the servants first complained of the tares to the hous- 
holder, but when they appeared or came in sight, there being no 
interim, wherein the servants could not tell what to make of them, 
but doubted whether they were wheat or tares, as the Answerer 
implies. 

Secondly, when was it that the housholder gave charge to let 
them alone, but after that they appeared, and were known to be 
tares, which should imply by this interpretation of the Answerer, 
that when men are discovered and knowne to be Hypocrites, yet 
still such a generation of Hypocrites in the Church must be let 
alone and tolerated untill the harvest or end of the world, which 
is contrary to all order, piety and safety in the Church of the 
Lord Jesus, as doubtlesse the Answerers will grant; so that these 
Tares being notoriously knowne to be different from the Corne, 
I conclude that they cannot here be intended by the Lord Jesus 
to signifie secret Hypocrites, but more open and apparent Sinners. 

Chap. XXI 

The second reason why these tares cannot signifie hypocrites 
in the Church, I take from the Lord Jesus His own Interpretation 
of the field (in which both wheat and tares are sowne, which saith 
he is the World, out of which God chooseth and calleth His Church. 

The World lyes in wickednesse, is like a Wildernesse or a Sea of 
wilde Beasts innumerable, fornicators, covetous, Idolators, d^'c. 
with whom Gods people may lawfully converse and cohabit in Cities, 
Townes, drc. else must they not live in the World, but goe out of 
it. In which world as soone as ever the Lord Jesus had sowne 
the good seed, the children of the Kingdome, true Christianity, or 
the true Church; the Enemy Sathan presently in the night of 
security, Ignorance and Err our (whilst men slept) sowed also 
these tares which are Antic hristians or false Christians. These 
strange Professours of the Name of Jesus, the Ministers and 
Prophets of God beholding, they are ready to runne to Heaven 
to fetch fiery judgements from thence to consume these strange 
Christians, and to pluck them by the roots out of the world: 
But the Son of Man, the tneek Lamb of God (for the Elect sake 



I 



lOO EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

which must be gathered out of Jew and Gentile, Pagan, Anti- 
christian) commands a permission of them in' the World, untill 
the time of the end of the World, when the Goats and Sheep, 
the Tares and Wheat shall be eternally separated each from 
other. 

Peace. You know some excellent Worthies (dead and living) 
have laboured to turne this Field of the World into the Garden of 
the Church. 

Truth. But who can imagine that the Wisdome of the Father, 
the Lord Jesus Christ, would so open this Parable (as He pro- 
fessedly doth) as that it should be close shut up, and that one 
difficulty or locke should be opened by a greater and harder, in 
calling the World the Church? contrary also to the way of the 
Light and Love that is in Jesus, when he would purposely teach 
and instruct His scholars; contrary to the nature of Parables and 
similitudes. 

And lastly, to the nature of the Church or Garden of Christ. 

Chap. XXII 

In the former Parable the Lord Jesus compared the Kingdome 
of Heaven to the sowing of Seed. The true Messengers of Christ 
are the Sowers, who cast the Seed of the Word of the Kingdome 
upon foiire sorts of ground, which foure sorts of ground or hearts 
of men, cannot be supposed to be of the Church, nor will it ever 
be proved that the Church consisteth of any more sorts or natures 
of ground properly, but one, to wit, the honest and good ground, 
and the proper worke of the Church concernes the flourishing and 
prosperity of this sort of ground, and not the other unconverted 
three sorts, who it may be seldome or never come neare the 
Church unlesse they be forced by the Civill sivord, which the 
patterne or first sowers never used, and being forced they are put 
into a way of Religion by such a course, if not so, they are forced 
to live without a Religion, for one of the two must necessarily 
follow, as I shall prove afterward. 

In the field of the World then are all those sorts of ground, high 
way hearers, stony and thorny ground hearers, as well as the 
honest and good ground; and I suppose it will not now be said 



ROGER WILLIAMS lOI 

by the Answerer, that those three sorts of had grounds were 
hypocrites or tares in the Church. 

Now after the Lord Jesus had propounded that great leading 
Parable of the Sower and the Seed, He is pleased to propound 
this Parable of the Tares, with admirable coherence and sweet 
consolation to the honest and good ground, who with glad and 
honest hearts having received the word of the Kingdotne, may yet 
seem to be discouraged and troubled with so many Antichristians 
and false Professours of the Name of Christ. The Lord Jesus 
therefore gives direction concerning these tares, that unto the end 
of the World successively in all the sorts and generations of them 
they must be (not approved or countenanced, but) let alone or 
permitted in the World. 

Secondly, he gives to His owne good seed this consolation, that 
those heavenly Reapers the Angells in the harvest or end of the 
World, vnW take an order and course with them, to wit, they shall 
binde them into bundles, and cast them into the everlasting burn- 
ings, and to make the cup of their consolation run over : He adds 
vers. 4. Then, then at that time shall the Righteous shine as the 
Sun in the Kingdome of their Father. 

These tares then neither being erronious doctrines, nor corrupt 
practises, nor hypocrites in the true Church intended by the Lord 
Jesus in this Parable; I shall in the third place (by the helpe of 
the same Lord Jesus) evidently prove that these tares can be no 
other sort of sinners, but false worshippers, Idolaters, and in par- 
ticular properly, Antichristians. 

Chap. XXHI 

First then, these Tares are such sinners as are opposite and 
contrary to the children of the Kingdome visibly so declared and 
manifest, ver. 38. Now the Kingdome of God below, is the 
visible Church of Christ Jesus, according to Matth. 8. 12. The 
children of the Kingdome which are threatned to be cast out, 
seeme to be the Jewes, which were then the onely visible Church 
in Covenant with the Lord, when all other Nations followed 
other gods and worships. And more plaine is that fearfull threat- 
ning, Matth. 21. 43. The Kingdome of God shall be taken 



I02 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

from you, and given to a Nation that will bring forth the 
fruits thereof. 

Such then are the good seed, good wheat, children of the King- 
dome, as are the disciples, members and subjects of the Lord Jesus 
Christ his Church &" Kingdom: and therefore consequently such 
are the tares, as are opposite to these, Idolaters, Will-worshippers, 
not truly but falsly submitting to Jesus: and in especiall, the 
children of the wicked one, visibly so appearing. Which v^^icked 
one I take not to be the Devill; for the Lord Jesus seemes to 
make them distinct: He that sow^es the good seed (saith he) is 
the Son of inan, the field is the World, the good seed are the Chil- 
dren of the Kingdome, but the Tares are the children of the wicked, 
or wickednesse, the enemy that sowed them, is the Devill. 

The Originall here, tov Trovrjpov, agrees with that, Luk. ii. 4. 
Deliver us, airo t Trovrjpov, from evill or wickednesse; opposite 
to the children of the Kingdome and the righteousnesse thereof. 

Chap. XXIV 

Peace. It is true, that all drunkards, thieves, uncleane persons, 
dr'c. are opposite to Gods children. 

Truth. Answ. Their opposition here against the children of 
the Kingdome, is such an opposition as properly fights against the 
Religious state or Worship of the Lord Jesus Christ. 

Secondly, it is manifest, that the Lord Jesus in this parable 
intends no other sort of sinners, unto whom he saith. Let them 
alone, in Church or State; for then he should contradict other 
holy and blessed ordinances for the punishment of offenders both 
in Christian and Civill State. 

First, in Civill state, from the beginning of the World, God 
hath armed Fathers, Masters, Magistrates, to punish evill doers, 
that is, such of whose actions Fathers, Masters, Magistrates are 
to judge, and accordingly to punish such sinners as transgresse 
against the good and peace of their Civill state, Families, Townes, 
Cities, Kingdomes : their States, Governments, Governours, Lawes, 
Punishments and Weapons being all of a Civill nature; and there- 
fore neither disobedience to parents or magistrates, nor murther 
nor quarrelling, uncleannesse nor laciviousnesse, stealing nor extor- 



ROGER WILLIAMS 



103 



Hon, neither ought of that kinde ought to be let alone, either in 
lesser or gvea.ter families, townes, cities, kingdomes , Rom. 13. but 
seasonably to be supprest, as may best conduce to the publike 
safetie. 

Againe secondly, in the Kingdome of Christ Jesus, whose king- 
dome, officers, lawes, punishments, ■weapons, are spirituall and of a 
Soule-nature, he will not have Antichristian idolators, extortioners, 
covetous, &'c. to be let alone, but the uncleane and lepers to be 
thrust forth, the old leaven purged out, the obstinate in sinne 
spiritually stoned to death, and put away from Israel; and this 
by many degrees of gentle admonition in private and publique, as 
the case requires. 

Therefore if neither offenders against the civill Lawes, State and 
peace ought to be let alone ; nor the Spirituall estate, the Church 
of Jesus Christ ought to beare with them that are evill. Revel. 2. 
I conclude, that these are sinners of another nature. Idolaters, 
False-worshippers, Antichristians, who without discouragement 
to true Christians must be let alone and permitted in the world 
to grow and fill up the measure of their sinnes, after the image 
of him that hath sowen them, untill the great Harvest shall make 
the difference. 

Chap. XXV 

Thirdly, in that the officers unto whom these Tares are referred, 
are the Angels the heavenly Reapers at the last day, it is cleare 
as the light, that (as before) these Tares cannot signifie Hypo- 
crites in the Church, who when they are discovered and seen to be 
Tares opposite to the good fruit of the good seed, are not to be 
let alone to the A ngels at Harvest or end of the world, but purged 
out by the Governors of the Church, and the whole Church of 
Christ. Againe, they cannot be offenders against the civill state 
and Common welfare, whose dealing with is not suspended unto 
the comming of the Angels, but [is committed] unto Men, who 
(although they know not the Lord Jesus Christ, yet) are lawfyll 
Governours and Riders in Civill things. 

Accordingly in the 4. and last place, in that the plucking up of 
these tares out of this field must bee let alone unto the very harvest 
or end of the world, it is apparent from thence, that (as before) 



I04 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

they could not signifie hypocrites in the Church, who when they 
are discovered to be so, (as these tares were discovered to be 
tares) are not to be suffered, (after the first and second Admoni- 
tion) but to be rejected, and every Brother that walketh dis- 
orderly to be withdrawen or separated from: So likewise no 
offendour against the Civill state, by robbery, murther, adultery, 
oppression, sedition, mutinie, is for ever to be connived at, and to 
enjoy a perpetuall toleration unto the Worlds end, as these tares 
must. 

Moses for a while held his peace against the sedition of Korah, 
Dathan, and Abiram. David for a season tolerated Shiniei, 
Joah, Adonijah; but till the Harvest or end of the World, the 
Lord never intended that any but these spirituall and mysticall 
Tares should be so permitted. 

Chap. XXVI 

Now if any imagine that the time or date is long, that in the 
meane season they may doe a world of mischief e before the Worlds 
end, as by infection, &c. 

Truth. First, I answer, that as the civill State keepes it selfe 
with a civill Guard, in case these Tares shall attempt ought against 
the peace and welfare of it, let such civill offences be punished, 
and yet as Tares opposite to Christs Kingdome, let their Worship 
and Consciences be tolerated. 

Secondly, the Church or spirituall State, City, or Kingdome 
hath lawes, and orders, and armories, (whereon there hang a 
thousand Sticklers, Cant. 4.) Weapons and Ammtmition, able to 
break down the strongest Holds, 1 Cor. 10. and so to defend it 
selfe against the very Gates of Earth or Hell. 

Thirdly, the Lord himself knows who are his, & his foundation 
remaineth sure, his Elect or chosen cannot perish nor be finally 
deceived. 

Lastly, the Lord Jesus here in this Parable layes downe two 
Reasons, able to content and satisfie our hearts, to beare patiently 
this their contradiction and Antichristianity, and to permit or let 
them alone. 

First, let the good Wheat bee pluckt up and rooted up also 



ROGER WILLIAMS I05 

out of this Field of the World: if such combustions and Jighiings 
were, as to pluck up all the false professours of the name of Christ, 
the good wheat also would enjoy little peace, but be in danger to 
bee pluckt up and torne out of this world by such bloody stormes 
and tempests. 

And therefore as Gods people are commanded, Jer. 29. to pray 
for the peace of materiall Babell, wherein they were captivated, 
and I Tim. 2. to pray for all men, and specially Kings and Gov- 
ernors, that in the peace of the civill State they may have peace: 
So contrary to the opinion and practice of most (drunke with the 
Cup of the Whores fornication) yea, and of Gods owne people 
fast asleepe in Antichristian Dalilahs laps, obedience to the com- 
mand of Christ to let the tares alone, will prove the onely meanes 
to preserve their Civill Peace, and that without obedience to this 
command of Christ, it is impossible (without great transgression 
against the Lord in carnall policy, which will not long hold out) 
to preserve the civill peace. 

Beside, Gods people the good Wheat are generally pluckt up 
and persecuted, as well as the vilest idolaters, whether Jewes or 
Antichristians, which the Lord Jesus seemes in this Parable to 
foretell. 

The second Reason noted in the Parable which may satisfie any 
man from wondering at the patience of God, is this: when the 
world is ripe in sinne, in the sinnes of Antichristianisme (as the 
Lord spake of the sinnes of the Amorites, Gen. 12.) then those 
holy and mighty Officers and Executioners, the Angels, with their 
sharpe and cutting sickles of eternall vengeance, shall downe with 
them, and bundle them up for the everlasting burnings. 

Then shall that j\Ian of Sin, 2. Thess. 2. be consumed by the 
breath of the mouth of the Lord Jesus, and all that worship the 
Beast and his picture, and receive his 7nark into their forehead 
or their hands, shall drink of the Wine of the wrath of God which 
is poured out without mixture into the Cup of his ifidignation, 
and he shall be tormented with fire and brimstone in the presence 
of the holy Angels, and in the presence of the Lambe, and the 
smoake of their torment shall ascend up forever and ever, Rev. 
14. 10. II. 



Io6 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

"THE PORTRAITURE OF THE BLOUDIE TENENT" 
[From "The bloody Tenent yet more bloody"] 

And for my selfe I must proclaime, before the most holy God, 
Angells and Men, that (what ever other white and heavenly 
Tenenis Mr. Cotton houlds) yet this is afowle, a black, and a bloudie 
Tenent. 

A Tenent of high Blasphemie against the God of Peace, the God 
of Order, who hath of one Bloud, made all Mankinde, to dwell 
upon the face of the Earth, now, all confounded and destroyed in 
their Civill Beings and Subsistences, by mutuall flames of warre 
from their severall respective Religions and Consciences. 

A Tenent warring against the Prince of Peace, Christ Jesus, 
denying his Appearance and Comming in the Flesh, to put an 
end to, and abolish the shadowes of that ceremoniatt and typicaU 
Land of Canaan. 

A Tenent fighting against the sweete end of his comming, which 
was not to destroy mens Lives, for their Religions, but to save 
them, by the meeke and peaceable Invitations and perswasions 
of his peaceable wisdomes Maidens. 

A Tenent fowly charging his Wisdome, Faithfidlnes and Love, 
in so poorly providing such Magistrates and Civill Powers all 
the World over, as might effect so great a charge pretended to be 
committed to them. 

A Tenent lamentably guilty of his most precious bloud, shed in 
the blond of so many hundreth thousand of his poore servants 
by the civill powers of the World, pretending to suppresse Blas- 
phemies, Heresies, Idolatries, Superstition, &c. 

A Tenent fighting with the Spirit of Love, Holines, and Meek- 
nes, by kindling fiery Spirits oi false zeale and Furie, when yet 
such Spirits know not of what Spirit they are. 

A Tenent fighting with those mighty Angels who stand up for 
the peace of the Saints, against Persia, Grecia, &c. and so con- 
sequently, all other Nations, who fighting for their severall Reli- 
gions, and against the Truth, leave no Roome for such as feare 
and love the Lord on the Earth. 

A Tenent, against which the blessed Soules under the Altar 



ROGER WILLIAMS lo'j 

cry loud for vengeance, this Teneni having cut their Throats, 
torne out their Hearts, and powred forth their Bloud in all Ages, 
as the onely Hereticks and Blasphemers in the World. 

A Teneni which no Undeannes, no Adulterie, Incest, Sodomie, 
or Beastialitie can equall, this ravishing and forcing {explicitly 
or implicitly) the very Soides and Consciences of all the Nations 
and Inhabitants of the World. 

A Teneni that puts out the very e;yg of all true Faith, which 
cannot but be as free and voluntarie as any Virgin in the World, 
in refusing or embracing any spirituall ojfer or object. 

A Tenent loathsome and ugly (in the eyes of the Goi of Heaven, 
and serious sonnes of men) I say, loathsome with the palpable 
Jilths of grosse dissimidation and hypocrisie: Thousands of 
Peoples and whole Nations, compelld by this Tenent to put on 
the fowle vizard of Religious hypocrisie, for feare of Lawes, losses 
and punishments, and for the keeping and hoping for oi favour, 
libertie, wordly commoditie, &c. 

A Tenent wofuUy guiltie of hardning all false and deluded Con- 
sciences (of whatsoever Sect, Faction, Heresie, or Idolatrie, though 
never so horrid and blasphemous) by cruelties and violences prac- 
ticed against them: all false Teachers and their Followers (ordi- 
narily) contracting a Brawnie and steelie hardnesse from their 
sufferings for their Consciences. 

A Tenent that shuts and bars out the gracious prophecies and 
promises and discoveries of the most glorious Sun of Righteousnes, 
Christ Jesus, that burnes up the holy Scriptures, and forbids them 
(upon the point) to be read in English, or that any tryall or search, 
or (truly) free disquisition be made by them: when the most 
able, diligent and conscionable Readers must pluck forth their 
own eyes, and be forced to reade by the (which soever prccdomi- 
nant) Cleargies Spectacles. 

A Tenent that scales up the spirituall graves of all men, Jewes 
and Gentiles, (and consequently stands guiltie of the damnation of 
all men) since no Preachers, nor Trumpets of Christ himselfe 
may call them out, but such as the severall and respective Nations 
of the World themselves allow of. 

A Tenent that fights against the common principles ol all Civilitie, 
and the very civill being and combinations of meyi in Nations, 



Io8 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

Cities, &c. by commixing {explicitly or implicitly) a spirituall 
and civill State together, and so confounding and overthrowing 
the puritie and strength of both. 

A Tenent that kindles the devouring flames of combustions and 
warres in most Nations of the H^orW, and (if God were not infinitely- 
gracious) had almost ruind the English, French, the Scotch and 
Irish, and many other Nations, Germane, Polonian, Hungarian, 
Bohemian, &c. 

A tenent that bowes downe the hacks and wer^^ of all civill 
States and Magistrates, Kings and Emperours, under the proud 
feet of that man and monster of 5m«g and pride the Po/'e, and all 
Popish and proud Cleargie-men rendring such Laicks and ^ecw- 
lars (as they call them) but slavish Executioners (upon the point) 
of their most imperious Synodicall Decrees and Sentences. 

A Tenent that renders the highest civill Magistrates and Minis- 
ters of Justice (the Fathers and Go(/5 of their Countries) either 
odious or lamentably grievous unto the very best Stibjects by 
either clapping or keeping on, the iron yoakes of cruellest oppres- 
sion. No yoake or bondage comparably so griveous, as that upon 
the Soules necke of mens Religion and Consciences. 

A Tenent, all besprinckled with the bloudie murthers, stohs, 
poysonings, pistollings, powder-plots, &c. against many famous 
Kings, Princes, and States, either actually performed or attempted 
in France, England, Scotland, Low-Countries, and other Nations. 

A Tenent all red and bloudie with those most barbarous and 
Tyger-\i\ie Massacres, of so many thousand and ten thousands 
formerly in France, and other parts, and so lately and so horribly 
in Ireland: of which, whatever causes be assigned, this chiefly 
will be found the true, and while this continues (to wit, violence 
against Conscience) this bloudie Issue, sooner or later, must breake 
forth againe (except God wonderfully stop it) in Ireland and other 
places too. 

A Tenent that stunts the growth and flourishing of the most 
likely and hopefullest Common-weales and Countries, while Con- 
sciences, the best, and the best deserving Subjects are forct to flie 
(by enforced or voluntary Banishment) from their native Coun- 
tries; The lamentable proofe whereof England hath felt in the 
flight of so many worthy English, into the Low Countries and 



ROGER WILLIAMS lOQ 

New England, and from New England into old againe and other 
forraigne parts. 

A Tenent whose grosse partialitie denies the Principles of com- 
mon Justice, while Men waigh out to the Consciences of all others, 
that which they judge not fit nor right to be waighed out to their 
owne: Since the persecutours Rule is, to take and persecute all 
Consciences, onely, himselfe must not be touched. 

A Tenent that is but Machevilisme, and makes a Religion, but 
a cloake or stalking horse to policie and private Ends of Jeroboams 
Crowne, and the Priests Benefice, &c. 

A Tenent that corrupts and spoils the very Civill Honestie and 
Natiirall Conscience of a Nation. Since Conscience to God vio- 
lated, proves (without Repentance) ever after, a very /aJe, a 
Drug, loose and unconscionable in all converse with men. 

Lastly, a Teneiit in England most unseasonable, as powering 
O^e upon those Flames which the high Wisdome of the Parlia- 
ment (by easing the yoakes on Mens Consciences) had begun to 
quench. 

In the sad Consideration of all which (Deare Peace) let Heaven 
and Earth judge of the washing and colour of this Tenent. For 
thee {sweete heavenly Guest) goe lodge thee in the breasts of the 
peaceable and humble Witnesses of Jesus, that love the Truth in 
peace! Hide thee from the Worlds Tumidts and Combustions, 
in the breasts of thy truely woft/e children, who professe and e;z- 
deavour to breake the iron)' and insupportable yoakes upon the 
Soules and Consciences of any of the sonnes of Men. 

ON CHRIST WITHOUT AND WITHIN 

[From "George Fox Digg'd out of his Burrowes"] 

In Pag. 221. He brings in the Author to a Book called Hosanna 
to the Son of David, saying, [Christ is without the Saints in respect 
of his Bodily presence,] He Answereth, (They are of his Flesh 
and of his Bone, and eat his Flesh and drink his Blood: and 
how have the Saints his Mind and Spirit, and he with them and 
they with him, and sit with him in Heavenly places, and he is 
the Head of the Church: how then is he absent? Ye poor 



no EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

Apostates from him who feel not Christ with you, but he is with 
the Saints, and they feel him.) 

/ Reply, I observe this Viperous Tongue saying to the unknown, 
heavenly Atithor, and Fox his other Oppositee [Ye poor Apostates 
&c.\ what is it but a heighth of Devilish Pride going before de- 
struction and condemnation? this proud swelling Bladder puft 
up with a Timpany of Wind and Vanity, what a huge swelling 
shew he makes ? what a breadth of confident boldness and bruit- 
ish impudencie he carries before him? what a gross, Frantick 
Papist is he become, that cannot, will not distinguish between 
Christs Spiritual presence and his bodily ? that cannot, will not 
consider the difference between Spirits and Bodies, a Spirit that 
hath no Flesh nor Bones, and a Body which hath both, as Christ 
his Body had? that cannot, will not distinguish between their 
sinful Flesh and Bones, and the sinless Flesh and Bo7tes of that 
Man Christ Jesus? that cannot, will not distinguish between God 
manifested in the Flesh and Bones of that Man Christ Jesus, 
and manifested in the Flesh and Bones of Believers in him: O 
most Holy and Righteous are thy Judgements, O thou most High 
Judge of the World, who art a devouring fire and Justice it self, 
who thus casteth down the Proud and Self-conceited into the Dun- 
geon of such Black and Hellish Ignorance ! 

Pag. 217, Out of a Book mentioning the Quakers Caiise, saying, 
[To say Christ within is never to mention Christ without]. He 
Answers, There is none knows Christ within, but he knows him 
without : the same yesterday, and to day, and for ever : And there 
is none knows him but they know him within, revealed of the 
Father, which is beyond Flesh and Blood. 

I Observe, This foolish Fox (for all his hiding Craft) is here 
found out : He professeth (against his Will and Heart) a Christ 
that died at Jerusalem, and therefore is he forced to name a Christ 
without: but when the Hole and Burrough is Digged the Fox is 
found: For Examine what is this Christ without? is he that 
litteral, real and material Person the Son of Mary (as all professing 
Christs Name generally agree) ? Is this he whom the Quakers 
acknowledge to have lived and died at Jerusalem? and do they 
intend a Material Crosse, a literal Death, a literal and real Jerusa- 
lem ? some of them will say yes, but therein give the lye to others 



ROGER WILLIAMS III 

of themselves, and also to the rest of their own story, in acknowl- 
edging no other Christ but such as is in every man: such a Christ 
as really and bodily died at Jerusalem, they scorn and hate and fly 
from as the Devils did, crying out, What have we to do with thee 
Jesus thou Son of the most High God, art thou come to torment us 
before the time? Hence the former Arch-deacon or Arch-bishop of 
these parts Humphrey Norton: he mocks at an outward Christ, 
he asks what Countryman he was and shall be : He reproves the 
Fools that have their Eyes abroad, and gazing after a man into 
Heaven, he jeers at the Crosse, and asks what manner of wood 
it was made of, seeing we must take it up dayly ? And Fox saith, 
this Jesus Christ without and within, is Jesus Christ yesterday, 
and to day, and the same for ever : therefore in the Logick or Rea- 
son of this Bruite, Christ had no body that was born at Bethlehem, 
or died at Jerusalem; For he was born yesterday, and to day, and 
he is born forever: he dyed yesterday, and he dies to day, and 
he dies forever, which is a most Heavenly Truth relating to 
Gods purpose, Christs Merit, and to Forefathers, our present 
times, and such as yet must be born and follow after us. 

But such Mystical and figurative Scriptures (which are in 
themselves like Sampsons Lion and Riddle) through Satans Pol- 
icy, and the proud simplicity of these simple Foxes, are made the 
common Holes and Burroughs where you may be sure to find 
them : just like the Jesuites (whose Cosens, if not Brethren of one 
belly of Hell they are) who usually confound clear Scriptures with 
Spirituall and Mystical Illusions, and fly from Distinctions and 
openings necessary in places more dark, figurative and allegorical. 



NATHANIEL WARD 

["The Simple Cobler of Aggawamm" is one of the most interesting of 
American literary curiosities, though it is valuable chiefly as a curiosity. Its 
author, the Rev. Nathaniel Ward, was a graduate of Cambridge, who had 
been a barrister and had travelled extensively on the Continent before he 
became a clergyman. After coming into conflict with Laud because of his 
Puritanism, he sailed for America in 1634, and remained until 1647. He 
served as minister at Ipswich, then known as Aggawam, from 1634 to 1636, 
when he laid down his pastorate on account of poor health. About 1645 he 
began to write the pamphlet which was published in London early in 1647, 
inscribed on the title-page "The Simple Cobler of Aggawamm in America. 
Willing to help 'mend his Native Country, lamentably tattered, both in the 
upper-Leather and sole, with all the honest stitches he can take. And as 
willing never to bee paid for his work, by Old English wonted pay. It is 
his trade to patch all the year long, gratis. Therefore I pray Gentlemen keep 
your purses. By Theodore de la Guard." Though written in America, and 
dealing to some extent with American themes, "The Simple Cobler" is evi- 
dently addressed to the people and parliament of Great Britain, and owes its 
inception to the political and religious condition of the mother country. It 
begins with a protest against religious toleration, and passes to a tirade 
against women's fashions and long hair; but the greater part of the work, 
though somewhat rambling, is given to a discussion of the political state of 
England. One of the best written and least intemperate parts of the pam- 
phlet is a long address to "My Dearest Lord, and my more than dearest 
King"; but the work owes its fame to the more virulent passages which are 
fairly represented in the pages that follow. The oddity of these has dis- 
tracted attention from the narrowness and bitterness of the ideas that they 
express, and has allowed the author's name to live with a more creditable 
reputation than it would have had if his prejudices had been less curiously 
phrased. 

Ward returned to England in time to revise the second, third, and fourth 
editions of "The Simple Cobler," all of which appeared in London in 1647, 
While in the colonies he had compiled "The Body of Liberties," a code of 
laws adopted by Massachusetts in 1641, and after his return to England he 
published a number of sermons and other writings. The selections that 
follow are from the reprint of the fourth edition of "The Simple Cobler," 
issued by the Ipswich Historical Society in 1905.] 



NATHANIEL WARD II3 

ON TOLERATION OF RELIGIOUS OPINIONS 

[From "The Simple Cobler of Aggawamm"] 

Either I am in an Appoplexie, or that man is in a Lethargic, 
who doth not now sensibly feele God shaking the heavens over 
his head, and the earth under his feet: The Heavens so, as the 
Sun begins to turne into darknesse, the Moon into blood, the 
Starres to fall down to the ground ; So that little Light of Comfort 
or Counsell is left to the sonnes of men: The Earth so, as the 
foundations are failing, the righteous scarce know where to finde 
rest, the inhabitants stagger like drunken men : it is in a manner 
dissolved both in Religions and Relations : And no marvell ; for, 
they have defiled it by transgressing the Lawes, changing the Or- 
dinances, and breaking the Everlasting Covenant. The Truths 
of God are the Pillars of the world, whereon States and Churches 
may stand quiet if they will ; if they will not, Hee can easily shake 
them off into delusions, and distractions enough. 

Sathan is now in his passions, he feeles his passion approach- 
ing; hee loves to fish in royled waters. Though that Dragon 
cannot sting the vitals of the Elect mortally, yet that Beelzebub 
can fly-blow their Intellectuals miserably: The finer Religion 
grows, the finer hee spins his Cobwebs, hee will hold pace with 
Christ so long as his wits will serve him. Hee sees himselfe beaten 
out of grosse Idolatries, Heresies, Ceremonies, where the Light 
breakes forth with power ; he will therefore bestirre him to pre- 
varicate Evangelicall Truths, and Ordinances, that if they will 
needs be walking, yet they shall laborare varicihus, and not keep 
their path, he will put them out of time and place; Assassinating 
for his Engineers, men of Paracelsian parts; well complexioned 
for honesty; for, such are fittest to Mountebanke his Chimistry 
into sicke Churches and weake Judgements. 

Nor shall hee need to stretch his strength overmuch in this 
worke: Too many men having not laid their foundations sure, 
nor ballasted their Spirits deepe with humility and feare, are prest 
enough of themselves to evaporate their owne apprehensions. 
Those that are acquainted with Story know, it hath ever beene so 
in new Editions of Churches: Such as are least able, are most 
busie to pudder in the rubbish, and to raise dust in the eyes of 



114 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

more steady Repayrers. Civill Commotions make roome for 
uncivill practises: Religious mutations, for irreligious opinions: 
Change of Aire, discovers corrupt bodies; Reformation of Reli- 
gion, unsound mindes. Hee that hath any well-faced phansy 
in his Crowne, and doth not vent it now, fears the pride of his 
owne heart will dub him dunce for ever. Such a one will trouble 
the whole Israel of God with his most untimely births, though he 
makes the bones of his vanity stick up, to the view and griefe of 
all that are godly wise. The devill desiers no better sport then 
to see light heads handle their heels, and fetch their carreers in 
a time, when the Roofe of Liberty stands open. 

The next perplexed Question, with pious and ponderous men, 
will be: What should bee done for the healing of these comfort 
lesse exulcerations. I am the unablest adviser of a thousand, the 
unworthiest of ten thousand ; yet I hope I may presume to assert 
what follows without just offence. 

First, such as have given or taken any unfriendly reports of us 
New-English, should doe well to recollect themselves. Wee 
have beene reputed a CoUuvies of wild Opinionists, swarmed into 
a remote wildernes to find elbow-roome for our phanatick Doc- 
trines and practices: I trust our diligence past, and constant 
sedulity against such persons and courses, will plead better 
things for us. I dare take upon me, to bee the Herauld of New- 
England so farre, as to proclaime to the world, in the name of our 
Colony, that all Familists, Antinomians, Anabaptists, and other 
Enthusiasts shall have free Liberty to keepe away from us, and 
such as will come to be gone as fast as they can, the sooner the 
better. 

Secondly, I dare averre, that God doth no where in his word 
tolerate Christian States, to give Toleration to such adversaries of 
his Truth, if they have power in their hands to suppresse them. 

Here is lately brought us an extract of a Magna Charta, so called, 
compiled between the Sub-planters of a West-Indian Island; 
whereof the first Article of constipulation, firmly provides free 
stable-room and litter for all kinde of consciences, be they never 
so dirty or jadish; making it actionable, yea, treasonable, to dis- 
turbe any man in his Religion, or to discommend it, whatever it 
be. Wee are very sorry to see such professed prophanenesse in 



NATHANIEL WARD II5 

English Professors, as industriously to lay their Religious founda- 
tions on the ruine of true Religion; which strictly binds every 
conscience to contend earnestly for the Truth : to preserve unity of 
spirit, Faith and Ordinances, to be all like minded, of one accord; 
every man to take his brother into his Christian care: to standfast 
with one spirit, with one mind, striving together for the faith of the 
Gospel, and by no meanes to permit Heresies or erronious opin- 
ions : But God abhorring such loathsome beverages, hath in his 
righteous judgement blasted that enterprize, which might other- 
wise have prospered well, for ought I know; I presume their 
case is generally knowne ere this. 

If the devill might have his free option, I beleeve he would ask 
nothing else, but liberty to enfranchize all false Religions, and to 
embondage the true; nor should hee need: It is much to be 
feared, that laxe Tolerations upon State-pretences and planting 
necessities, will be the next subtle Stratagem he will spread to 
distate the Truth of God and supplant the peace of the Churches. 
Tolerations in things tolerable, exquisitely drawn out by the lines 
of the Scripture, and pensill of the Spirit, are the sacred favours 
of Truth, the due latitudes of Love, the faire Compartiments of 
Christian fraternity: but irregular dispensations, dealt forth by 
the facilities of men, are the frontiers of error, the redoubts of 
Schisme, the perillous irritaments of carnall and spirituall enmity. 

My heart hath natiu-ally detested foure things : The standing of 
the Apocrypha in the Bible; Forrainers dwelling in my Countrey, 
to crowd out native Subjects into the corners of the Earth; Alchy- 
mized coines; Tolerations of divers Religions, or of one Religion 
in segregant shapes: He that willingly assents to the last, if he 
examines his heart by day-light, his conscience will tell him, he is 
either an Atheist, or an Heretique, or an Hypocrite, or at best a 
captive to some Lust: Poly-piety is the greatest impiety in the 
world. True Religion is Ignis probationis, which doth congregare 
homogenea &• segregare heterogenea. 

Not to tolerate things meerly indifferent to weak consciences, 
argues a conscience too strong: pressed uniformity in these, causes 
much disunity : To tolerate more then indifferents, is not to deale 
indifferently with God : He that doth it, takes his Scepter out of 
his hand, and bids him stand by. Who hath to doe to institute 



Il6 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

Religion but God. The power of all Religion and Ordinances, 
lies in their purity : their purity in their simplicity : then are mix- 
tures pernicious. I lived in a City, where a Papist preached in 
one Church, a Lutheran in another, a Calvinist in a third; a 
Lutheran one part of the day, a Calvinist the other, in the same 
Pulpit: the Religion of that place was but motly and meagre, 
their affections Leopard -like. 

If the whole Creature should conspire to doe the Creator a mis- 
chiefe, or offer him an insolency, it would be in nothing more, 
than in erecting untruths against his Truth, or by sophisticating 
his Truths with humane medleyes : the removing of some one iota 
in Scripture, may draw out all the life, and traverse all the Truth 
of the whole Bible : but to authorise an untruth, by a Toleration 
of State, is to build a Sconce against the walls of heaven, to batter 
God out of his Chaire : To tell a practicall lye, is a great sin, but 
yet transient; but to set up a Theoricall untruth, is to warrant every 
lye that lyes from its root to the top of every branch it hath, which 
are not a few. 

I would willingly hope that no Member of the Parliament hath 
skilfully ingratiated himselfe into the hearts of the House, that he 
might watch a time to midwife out some ungracious Toleration 
for his owne turne, and for the sake of that, some other, I would 
also hope that a word of generall caution should not be particu- 
larly misapplied. I am the freer to suggest it, because I know 
not one man of that mind, my aime is generall, and I desire may 
be so accepted. Yet good Gentlemen, look well about you, and 
remember how Tiberius play'd the Fox with the Senate of Rome, 
and how Fabius Maximus cropt his ears for his cunning. 

^ MORE ARGUMENTS AGAINST TOLERATION 

[From "The Simple Cobler"] 

It is said, Though a man have light enough himselfe to see the 
Truth, yet if he hath not enough to enlighten others, he is bound 
to tolerate them, I will engage my self, that all the Devills in 
Britanie shall sell themselves to their shirts, to purchase a Lease 
of this Position for three of their Lives, under the Seale of the 
Parliament. 



NATHANIEL WARD II7 

It is said, That Men ought to have Liberty of their Conscience, 
and that it is persecution to debarre them of it: I can rather 
stand amazed then reply to this: it is an astonishment to think 
that the braines of men should be parboyl'd in such impious igno- 
rance ; Let all the wits under the Heavens lay their heads together 
and finde an Assertion worse then this (one excepted) I will peti- 
tion to be chosen the universall Ideot of the world. 

It is said, That Civill Magistrates ought not to meddle with 
Ecclesiasticall matters. 

I would answer to this so well as I could, did I not know that 
some papers lately brought out of New-England, are going to the 
Presse, wherein the Opinions of the Elders there in a late Synod, 
concerning this point are manifested, which I suppose will give 
clearer satisfaction then I can. 

The true English of all this their false Latine, is nothing but 
a generall Toleration of all Opinions; which motion if it be like 
to take, it were very requisite, that the City would repaire Pauls 
with all the speed they can, for an English Pantheon, and bestow 
it upon the Sectaries, freely to assemble in, then there may be 
some hope that London will be quiet in time.^ 

But why dwell I so intolerable long about Tolerations, I hope 
my fears are but panick, against which I have a double cordiall. 
First, that the Parliament will not though they could : Secondly, 
that they cannot though they would grant such Tolerations. God 
who hath so honoured them with eminent wisdome in all other 
things, will not suffer them to cast both his, and their Honour in 
the dust of perpetuall Infamy, doe what they can ; nor shall those 
who have spent so great a part of their substance in redeeming 
their Civill Liberties from Usurpation, lose all that remaines in 
enthralling their spirituall Liberty by Toleration. 

It is said Opinionists are many, and strong, that de sunt 
Vires, that it is turhata respublica, I am very sorry for it, but more 
sorry, if despondency of minde shall cause the least tergiversation 
in Gods Worthies, who have receiv'd such pledges of his presence 
in their late Counsels, and Conflicts. It is not thousands of 
Opinionists that can pinion his Everlasting armes, I can hardly 
beleeve there is a greater unbeleever then my Selfe, yet I can verily 
beleeve that the God of Truth will in a short time scatter them 



Il8 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

all like smoak before the wind. I confesse I am troubled to see 
Men so over-troubled about them; I am rather glad to heare the 
Devill is breaking up house in England, and removing some- 
whither else, give him leave to sell all his rags, and odd-eends by 
the out-cry ; and let his petty Chapmen make their Market while 
they may, upon my poore credit it will not last long. Hee that 
hath done so much for England will go on to perfect his owne 
praise, and his Peoples Peace : Let good men stand still, and 
behold his further Salvation. He that sitteth in the Heavens 
laughs at them, the most High hath them in Derision, and their 
folly shall certainly be manifested to all men. 

Yet I dare not but adde, and in the Name of God will adde, that 
if any Publique members of Church or State, have been either 
open fautors, or private abetters of any blasphemous, contagious 
Opinions, It will be their wisdome to proportion their repentance 
to their Sin, before God makes them Publique monuments of 
Ignominie, and Apostasie. 

Thirdly, that all Christian States, ought to disavow and decry 
all such Errors, by some peremptory Statutary Act, and that in 
time, that Subjects knowing fully the minde of the State, might 
not delude themselves with vaine hopes of unsufferable Liberties. 
It is lesse to say, Statiiatur Veritas, mat Regnum, than Fiat justitia, 
ruat Caelum; but there is no such danger in either of them. Feare 
nothing Gentlemen, Ruhiconemtransiistis, jacta est alea, ye have 
turned the Devill out of doores ; fling all his old parrell after him 
out at the windows, lest he makes another errand for it againe. 
Quae relinquuntur in morhis post indicationeni, recidivas facere 
confiievere. Christ would have his Church without spot or 
wrinckle; They that help make it so, shall lose neither honour 
nor labour: If yee be wise, suffer no more thorns in his sides or 
your owne. When God kindles such fires as these, hee doth not 
usually quench them, till the very scum on the pot sides be boyled 
cleane away, Ezek. 24. 10, 11. Yee were better to doe it your- 
selves, than leave it to him : the Arme of the Lord is mighty, his 
hand very heavy ; who can dwell with his devouring fire, and long 
lasting burnings? 

Fourthly, to make speedy provision against Obstinates and 
Disseminaries : where under favour, two things will be found 



NATHANIEL WARD II9 

requisite. First, variety of penaltyes, I meane certaine, not in- 
definite: I am a Crabbat against Arbitrary Government. Ex- 
perience hath taught us here, that poUticall, domesticall, and per- 
sonal! respects, will not admit one and the same remedy for all, 
without sad inconveniences. Secondly, just severity: persecu- 
tion hath ever spread Truth, prosecution scattered Errour: Ten 
of the most Christian Emperors, found that way best; Schollars 
know whom I meane: Five of the ancient Fathers perswaded to 
it, of whom Augustine was one, who for a time argued hard for 
indulgency: but upon conference with other prudent Bishops, 
altered his judgement, as appears in three of his Epistles, to 
Marcellinus, Donatus, and Boniface. I would be understood, not 
onely an AUower, but an humble Petitioner, that ignorant and 
tender conscienced Anabaptists may have due time and means of 
conviction. 

Fifthly, That every Prophet, to whom God hath given the 
tongue of the learned, should teach, and every Angel who hath 
a pen and inkehorne by his side write against these grieving ex- 
travagancies : writing of many books, I grant is irksome, reading 
endlesse. A reasonable man would thinke Divines had declaimed 
sufficiently upon these Themes. I have ever thought the Rule 
given, Titus 3. 10. which cuts the work short and sharpe to be 
more properly prevelant, then wearisome waiting upon unwear- 
iable Spirits. It is a most toylsome taske to run the wild-goose 
chase after a well-breath'd Opinionist : they delight in vitilitigation : 
it is an itch that loves alife to be scrub'd: they desire not satis- 
faction, but satisdiction, whereof themselves must be judges: 
yet in new eruptions of Error with new objections, silence is 
sinfull. 

ON WOMEN'S FASHIONS 

[From "The Simple Cobler"] 

Should I not keepe promise in speaking a little to Womens 
fashions, they would take it unkindly: I was loath to pester 
better matter with such stuffe; I rather thought it meet to let 
them stand by themselves, like the Quae Genus in the Grammer, 
being Deficients, or Redundants, not to be brought under any 



I20 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

Rule : I shall therefore make bold for this once, to borrow a little 
of their loose tongued Liberty, and mis-spend a word or two upon 
their long- wasted, but short-skirted patience: a little use of my 
stirrup will doe no harme. 

Ridentem dicer e verum, quid prohihet? 

Gray Gravity it selfe can tvell beteam, 
That Language be adapted to the Theme. 
He that to Parrots speaks, must parrotise: 
He that instructs a foole, may act th" unwise. 

It is known more then enough, that I am neither Nigard, nor 
Cinick, to the due bravery of the true Gentry: if any man dis- 
likes a buUymong drossock more then I, let him take her for his 
labour: I honour the woman that can honour her selfe with her 
attire: a good Text alwayes deserves a fair Margent; I am not 
much offended, if I see a trimme, far trimmer than she that weares 
it: in a word, whatever Christianity or Civility will allow, I can 
afford with London measure: but when I heare a nugiperous 
Gentledame inquire what dresse the Queen is in this week: what 
the nudiustertian fashion of the Court; with egge to be in it in 
all haste, whatever it be; I look at her as the very gizzard of a 
trifle, the product of a quarter of a cypher, the epitome of Noth- 
ing, fitter to be kickt, if shee were of a kickable substance, than 
either honour'd or humour'd. 

To speak moderately, I truly confesse it is beyond the ken of 
my understanding to conceive, how those women should have 
any true grace, or valuable vertue, that have so little wit, as to 
disfigure themselves with such exotick garbes, as not only dis- 
mantles their native lovely lustre, but transclouts them into 
gant-bar-geese, ill-shapen-shotten-shell-fish, Egyptian Hyeroglyph- 
icks, or at the best into French flurts of the pastery, which a 
proper English woman should scorne with her heels : it is no mar- 
veil they weare draills on the hinder part of their heads, having 
nothing as it seems in the fore-part, but a few Squirrils brains 
to help them frisk from one ill-favour'd fashion to another. 

These whimm' Crown' d shees, these fashion-fansying wits, 
Are empty thin brain' d shells, and fidling Kits. 



NATHANIEL WARD 121 

The very troublers and impoverishers of mankind, I can hardly 
forbeare to commend to the world a saying of a Lady living some- 
time with the Queen of Bohemia, I know not where shee found it, 
but it is pitty it should be lost. 

The world is full of care, much like unto a bubble; 

Women and care, and care and women, and women and care and trouble. 

The Verses are even enough for such odde pegma's I can make 
my selfe sicke at any time, with comparing the dazling splender 
wherewith our Gentlewomen were imbellished in some former 
habits, with the gut-foundred goosdom, wherewith they are 
now surcingled and debauched. Wee have about five or six of 
them in our Colony: if I see any of them accidentally, I cannot 
cleanse my phansie of them for a moneth after. I have been a 
solitary widdower almost twelve yeares, purposed lately to make 
a step over to my Native Country for a yoke-fellow : but when I 
consider how women there have tripe-wifed themselves with their 
cladments, I have no heart to the voyage, least their nauseous 
shapes and the Sea, should work too sorely upon my stomach. 
I speak sadly ; me thinkes it should breake the hearts of English- 
men, to see so many goodly English-women imprisoned in French 
Cages, peering out of their hood-holes for some men of mercy to 
help them with a Uttle wit, and no body relieves them. 

It is a more common then convenient saying, that nine Taylors 
make a man: it were well if nineteene could make a woman to 
her minde : if Taylors were men indeed, well furnished but with 
meer morall principles, they would disdain to be led alDOut like 
Apes, by such mymick Marmosets. It is a most unworthy thing, 
for men that have bones in them, to spend their lives in making 
fidle-cases for futulous womens phansies; which are the very 
pettitoes of Infirmity, the giblets of perquisquilian toyes. I am 
so charitable to think, that most of that mystery would worke the 
cheerfuller while they live, if they might bee well discharged of 
the tyring slavery of mis-tyring women : it is no little labour to be 
continually putting up English-women into Out-landish caskes; 
who if they be not shifted anew, once in a few months, grow too 
sowre for their Husbands. What this Trade will answer for 
themselves when God shall take measure of Taylors con- 



122 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

sciences is beyond my skill to imagine. There was a time 
when 

The joyning of the Red-Rose with the White, 
Did set our State into a Damask plight. 

But now our Roses are turned to Flore de lices, our Carnations 
to Tulips, our Gilliflowers to Dayzes, our City-Dames, to an in- 
denominable Quaemalry of overturcas'd things. Hee that makes 
Coates for the Moone, had need to take measure every noone: 
and he that makes for women, as often, to keepe them from 
Lunacy. 

I have often heard divers Ladies vent loud feminine complaints 
of the wearisome varieties and chargable changes of fashions: I 
marvell themselves preferre not a Bill of Redresse. I would 
Essex ^ Ladies would lead the Chore, for the honour of their 
County and persons; or rather the thrice honorable Ladies of 
the Court, whom it best besemes : who may well presume of a Le 
Roy le veuli from our sober King, a Les Seigneurs out assentus 
from our prudent Peers, and the like Assentus, from our con- 
siderate, I dare not say wife-worne Commons: who I beleeve 
had much rather passe one such Bill, than pay so many Taylors 
Bills as they are forced to doe. 

Most deare and unparallel'd Ladies, be pleased to attempt it: 
as you have the precellency of the women of the world for beauty 
and feature; so assume the honour to give, and not take Law 
from any in matter of attire: if ye can transact so faire a 
motion among yourselves unanimously, I dare say, they that 
most renite, vv'ill least repent. What greater Honour can your 
Honors desire, then to build a Promontory president to all 
foraigne Ladies, to deserve so eminently at the hands of all the 
English Gentry present and to come : and to confute the opinion 
of all the wise men in the world; who never thought it possible 
for women to doe so good a work? 

If any man think I have spoken rather merrily than seriously 
he is much mistaken, I have written what I write with all the in- 
dignation I can, and no more then I ought. I confesse I veer'd 

' All the counties and shires of England have had wars in them since the 
Conquest, but Essex, which is onely free, and should be thankfull. [Printed in 
the original edition as a marginal gloss.] 



NATHANIEL WARD I23 

my tongue to this kinde of Language de industria though un- 
willingly, supposing those I speak to are uncapable of grave and 
rationall arguments. 

I desire all Ladies and Gentlewomen to understand that all 
this while I intend not such as through necessary modesty to avoyd 
morose singularity, follow fashions slowly, a flight shot or two 
oflF, shewing by their moderation, that they rather draw counter- 
mont with their hearts, then put on by their examples. 

I point my pen only against the light-heel'd beagles that lead 
that chase so fast, that they run all civility out of breath, against 
these Ape-headed pullets, which invent antique foole-fangles, 
meerly for fashion and novelty sake. 

In a word, if I begin once to declaime against fashions, let men 
and women look well about them, there is somev/hat in the busi- 
nesse; I confesse to the world, I never had grace enough to be 
strict in that kinde; and of late years, I have found syrrope of 
pride very wholesome in a due Dos, which makes mee keep such 
store of that drugge by me, that if any body comes to me for a 
question-full or tAVO about fashions, they never complain of me 
for giving them hard measure, or under-weight. 

But I addresse my self to those who can both hear and mend 
all if they please : I seriously fear, if the pious Parhament doe not 
find a time to state fashions, as ancient Parliaments have done in 
part, God will hardly finde a time to state Religion or Peace: 
They are the surquedryes of pride, the wantonnesse of idlenesse, 
provoking sins, the certain prodromies of assured judgement, 
Zeph. I. 7, 8. 

It is beyond all account, how many Gentlemens and Citizens 
estates are deplumed by their feather-headed wives, what 
useful supplies the pannage of England would afford other 
Countries, what rich returnes to it selfe, if it were not sHced out 
into male and female fripperies: and what a multitude of mis- 
imploy'd hands, might be better improv'd in some more manly 
Manufactures for the publique weale: it is not easily credible, 
what may be said of the preterpluralities of Taylors in London: 
I have heard an honest man say, that not long since there were 
numbered between Tcfn pie-bar re and Charing-Crosse, eight thou- 
sand of that Trade : let it be conjectured by that proportion how 



124 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

many there are in and about London, and in all England, they will 
appeare to be very numerous. If the Parliament would please to 
mend women, which their Husbands dare not doe, there need not 
so many men to make and mend as there are. I hope the present 
dolefull estate of the Realme, will perswade more strongly to some 
considerate course herein, than I now can. 

A WORD OF IRELAND 

Not of the Nation Universally, nor of any man in it, that hath so 

MUCH AS one HAIRE OF CHRISTIANITY OR HUMANITY GROWING ON HIS 
HEAD OR BEARD, BUT ONELY OF THE TRUCULENT CUT-THROATS, AND 
SUCH AS SHALL TAKE UP ARMES IN THEIR DEFENCE. 

[From "The Simple Cobler"] 

These Irish anciently called Antropophagi, man-eaters: Have a 
Tradition among them, That when the Devill shewed our Saviour 
all the Kingdomes of the Earth and their glory, that he would not 
shew him Ireland, but reserved it for himselfe : it is probably true, 
for he hath kept it ever since for his own peculiar ; the old Fox 
foresaw it would eclipse the glory of all the rest: he thought it 
wisdome to keep the land for a Boggards for his unclean spirits 
imployed in this Hemisphere, and the people, to doe his Son and 
Heire, I mean the Pope, that service for which Leivis the eleventh 
kept his B arbor Oliver, which makes them so blood-thirsty. They 
are the very Offall of men, Dregges of Mankind, Reproach of 
Christendom, the Bots that crawle on the Beasts taile, I wonder 
Rome it self is not ashamed of them. 

I begge upon my hands and knees, that the Expedition against 
them may be undertaken while the hearts and hands of our Soul- 
diery are hot, to whom I will be bold to say briefly : Happy is he 
that shall reward them as they have served us, and Cursed be he 
that shall do that work of the Lord negligently. Cursed be he 
that holdeth back his Sword from blood : yea. Cursed be he that 
maketh not his Sword starke drunk with Irish blood, that doth not 
recompence them double for their hellish treachery to the Eng- 
lish, that maketh them not heaps upon heaps, and their Country 
a dwelling place for Dragons, an Astonishment to Nations: Let 
not that eye look for pity, nor that hand to be spared, that pities 
or spares them, and let him be accursed, that curseth not them 
bitterly. 



THOMAS SHEPARD 

[Thomas Shepard was another of the famous Massachusetts divines who 
were educated at Emmanuel College, Cambridge, and who were later driven 
from the Church of England by Archbishop Laud. He came to Boston in 
1635 at the age of thirty, and from 1636 till his death in 1649 was pastor 
of the church at Cambridge. His many published writings were almost all 
on religious and theological subjects. His style is at times unusually modern, 
and he is more readable than many of his contemporaries, but none of his 
works stands out with especial distinction. His brief "Autobiography" 
remained in manuscript until 1832, when it was privately printed. It was 
first published in Alexander Young's "Chronicles of the First Planters of 
Massachusetts Bay," in 1846. 

The first passage given below was quoted by Thomas Prince in his 
"Annals of New England" from "A manuscript of Master Shepard's 
written in his own hand." The text is that of the reprint of the "Annals" 
in Edward Arber's "English Garner." The second selection is from Shep- 
ard's pamphlet, "The Cleare Sunshine of the Gospell breaking forth upon 
the Indians in New England," originally published in London in 1648, and 
reprinted in the Collections of the Massachusetts Historical Society, 1834. 
The selection from "The Sincere Convert" is from the first London edition, 
1659. A marginal gloss, which summarizes each paragraph without com- 
ment, is here omitted. The extract from the "Autobiography" is from 
Young's reprint, referred to above. This modernizes the spelling.] 



AN INTERVIEW WITH BISHOP LAUD 

December 16, 1630. I was inhibited from preaching in the dio- 
cese of London by Doctor Laud, Bishop of that diocese. 

As soon as I came, in the morning, about eight o'clock; fal- 
ling into a fit of rage, he asked me, "What degree I had taken 
in the University?" I answered him, "I was a Master of Arts." 
He asked, "Of what College ? " I answered, "Of Emmanuel." 
He asked me, "How long I had lived in his diocese ? " I answered, 
"Three years and upwards." He asked, "Who maintained me 
all this while?" Charging me to deal plainly with him; adding 
withal, that he had been more cheated and equivocated with by 

125 



126 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

some of my malignant faction, than ever was man by Jesuit. At 
the speaking of which words, he looked as though blood would 
have gushed out of his face, and did shake as if he had been 
haunted with an ague fit: to my apprehension, by reason of his 
extreme malice and secret venom. I desired him "to excuse me." 
He fell then to threaten me, and withal to bitter railing; calling 
me all to naught: saying, "You prating coxcomb ! Do you think 
all the learning is in your brain?" 

He pronounced his sentence thus. "I charge you, that you 
neither preach, read, marry, bury, nor exercise any ministerial 
function in any part of my diocese ! for if you do, and I hear of it, 
I'll be upon your back; and follow you wherever you go, in any 
part of the kingdom : and so everlastingly disenable you ! " I be- 
sought him not to deal so, in regard of a poor town. And here he 
stopped me, in what I was going on to say, "A poor town ! You 
have made a company of seditious, factious bedlams ! And what 
do you prate to me of a poor town ! " I prayed him "to sufifer me 
to catechize on the Sabbath days, in the afternoon." He repHed, 
"Spare your breath! I will have no such fellows prate in my 
diocese ! Get you gone ! And now make your complaints to 
whom you will ! " So away I went. And blessed be GOD 1 that I 
may go to Him. 

QUESTIONS IN INDIAN MEETING 

[From "The Cleare Sunshine of the Gospell Breaking forth upon the 
Indians in New England"] 

As soone as ever the fiercenesse of the winter was past, March. 
3. 1647. I went out to Noonanetum to the Indian Lecture, where 
Mr. Wilson, Mr. Allen, of Dedham, Mr. Dunster, beside many other 
Christians were present; on which day perceiving divers of the 
Indian women well affected, and considering that their soules 
might stand in need of answer to their scruples as well as the mens ; 
& yet because we knew how unfit it was for women so much as to 
aske questions publiquely immediately by themselves; wee did 
therefore desire them to propound any questions they would be 
resolved about by first acquainting either their Husbands, or the 
Interpreter privately therewith : whereupon we heard two ques- 



THOMAS SHEPARD 1 27 

tions thus orderly propounded; which because they are the first 
that ever were propounded by Indian women in such an ordinance 
that ever wee heard of, and because they may bee otherwise useful!, 
I shall therefore set them downe. 

The first question was propounded by the wife of one Wampooas 
a well affected Indian, viz. "Whether (said she) do I pray 
"when my husband prayes if I speak nothing as he doth, yet if 
" I like what he saith, and my heart goes with it ? (for the Indians 
will many times pray with their wives, and with their children also 
sometime in the fields) shee therefore fearing lest prayer should 
onely be an externall action of the lips, enquired if it might not be 
also an inward action of the heart, if she liked of what he said. 

The second question vv^'as propounded by the Wife of one 
Totherswampe, her meaning in her question (as wee all perceived) 
was this viz. "Whether a husband should do well to pray with 
" his wife, and yet continue in his passions, & be angry with his 
wife? But the modesty and wisdome of the woman directed her 
to doe three things in one, for thus shee spake to us, viz. " Before 
" my husband did pray hee was much angry and froward, but since 
"hee hath begun to pray hee was not angry so much, but little 
"angry: wherein first shee gave an honorable testimony of her 
husband and commended him for the abatement of his passion; 
secondly, shee gave implicitly a secret reproofe for what was past, 
and for somewhat at present that was amisse; and thirdly, it was 
intended by her as a question whether her husband should pray to 
God, and yet continue in some unruly passions; but she wisely 
avoyded that, lest it might reflect too much upon him, although wee 
desired her to expresse if that was not her meaning. 

At this time (beside these questions) there were sundry others 
propounded of very good use, in all which we saw the Lord Jesus 
leading them to make narrow inquiries into the things of God, 
that so they might see the reality of them. I have heard few Chris- 
tians when they began to looke toward God, make more searching 
questions that they might see things really, and not onely have 
a notion of them: I forbeare to mention any of them, because I 
forget the chiefe of them; onely this wee tooke notice of at this 
dayes meeting, that there was an aged Indian who proposed his 
complaint in propounding his question concerning an unruly 



128 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

disobedient son, and "what one should do with him in case of 
" obstinacy and disobedience, and that will not heare Gods Word, 
" though his Father command him, nor will not forsake his drunk- 
" ennesse, though his father forbid him? Unto which there were 
many answers to set forth the sinne of disobedience to parents; 
which were the more quickned and sharpned because wee knew 
that this rebellious sonne whom the old man meant, was by Gods 
providence present at this Lecture : Mr Wilson was much inlarged, 
and spake so terribly, yet so graciously as might have affected a 
heart not quite shut up, which this young desperado hearing (who 
well understood the English tongue) instead of humbling himself 
before the Lords Word, which touched his conscience and con- 
dition so neare, hee was filled with a spirit of Satan, and as soone 
as ever Mr. Wilsons speech was ended hee brake out into a loud 
contemptuous expression; So, saith he: which we passed by 
without speaking againe, leaving the Word with him, which we 
knew would one day take its effect one way or other upon him. 

THE SENTENCE AT THE LAST JUDGMENT 

[From "The Sincere Convert"] 

4. In regard of the fearful sentence that then shall be passed 
upon thee; Depart thou cursed creature into everlasting fire, pre- 
pared for the devil and his Angels. Thou shalt then cry out. Oh 
mercy, Lord ! Oh a little mercy ! No, will the Lord Jesus say, 
I did indeed once offer it you, but you refused, therefore Depart. 
Then thou shalt plead again, Lord if I must depart, yet blesse me 
before I go: No, no, Depart thou cursed. Oh but, Lord, If I 
must depart cursed, let me go into some good place : No, depart 
thou cursed into hell fire. Oh Lord, that's a torment I cannot bear; 
but if it must be so. Lord, let me come out again quickly; No, 
depart thou cursed into everlasting fire. Oh Lord, if this be thy 
pleasure, that here I must abide, let me have good company with 
me. No depart thou cursed into everlasting fire prepared for the 
Devil and his Angels. This shall be thy sentence. The hearing 
of which may make the rocks to rent, so that, go on in thy sin and 
prosper, despise and scoff at Gods Ministers and prosper, abhorre 



THOMAS SHEPARD 1 29 

the power and practise of Religion, as a too precise course, and 
prosper; yet know it, there will a day come, when thou shalt meet 
with a dreadfull Judge, a dolefull sentence. Now is thy day of 
sinning, but God will have shortly his day of condemning. 

5. When the Judgement day is done then the fearfull wrath of 
God shall be poured out, and piled upon their bodies and soulcs, 
and the breath of the Lord, like a stream of brimstone shall kindle 
it, and here thou shalt lie burning, and none shall ever quench it. 
This is the execution of a sinner after judgement, Rev. 21.8. 

Now this wrath of God consists in these things. 

1. Thy soul shall be banished from the face, and blessed sweet 
presence of God and Christ, and thou shalt never see the face of 
God more. It is said Acts 20. that they wept sore, because they 
should see Pauls /ace no more. Oh, thou shalt never see the face of 
God, Christ, Saints and Angels more. Oh, heavy doom to famish 
and pine away for ever without one bit of bread to comfort thee, 
one smile of God to refresh thee ! Men that have their sores run- 
ning upon them, must be shut up from the presence of men sound 
and hole. Oh, thy sinnes like plague-sores, run on thee, therefore 
thou must be shut out like a Dog from the presence of God and all 
his people, 2 Thes, i. g. 

2. God shall set himself like a consuming infinite fire against 
thee, and tread thee under his feet, who hast by sin trod him & 
his glory under foot all thy life. A man may devise exquisite 
torments for another, and great power may make a little stick to 
lay on heavy strokes: but great power stirred up to strike from 
great fury and wrath, makes the stroak deadly : I tell thee, all the 
wisdom of God shall then be set against thee to devise torments 
for thee, Mich. 2. 3, There was never such wrath felt or con- 
ceived, as the Lord hath devised against thee, that livest and diest 
in thy natural estate : hence it is called wrath to come, I Thess. I. 
idt. The torment which wisdome shall devise, the Almighty 
power of God shall inflict upon thee, so as there was never such 
power seen in making the world, as in holding a poor creature under 
this wrath, that holds up the soul in being with one hand, and beats 
it with the other, ever burning like fire against a creature, and yet 
that creature never burnt up, Rom. g. 22. Think not this cruelty, 
it's justice; what cares God for a vile wretch, whom nothing can 



130 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

make good while it lives ? If we have been long in hewing a block, 
and we can make no meet vessel of it, put it to no good use for 
our selves, we cast it into the fire : God heweth thee by Sermons, 
sickness, losses, and crosses, sudden death, mercies and miseries, 
yet nothing makes the better ; what should God do with thee, but 
cast thee hence? Oh, consider of this wrath before you feel it. 
I had rather have all the world burning about my ears, than to 
have one blasting frown from the blessed face of an infinite and 
dreadful God. Thou canst not endure the torments of a little 
Kitchin fire on the tip of thy finger, not one half hour together; 
how wilt thou bear the fury of this infinite, endlesse, consuming 
fire in body and soul throughout all eternity ? 

3. The never-dying worm of a guilty conscience shall torment 
thee, as if thou hadst swallowed down a living poisonfull snake, 
which shall lie gnawing and biting thine heart for sin past, day 
and night. And this worm shall torment by shewing the cause of 
thy misery, that is, that thou didst never care for him that would 
have saved thee. By shewing thee also thy sins against the Law, 
by shewing thee thy sloath, whereby thy happiness is lost. Then 
shall thy conscience gnaw to think so many nights I went to bed 
without prayer, and so many dayes and hours I spent in feasting and 
foolish sporting. Oh, if I had spent half that time, now mispent, 
in praying, in mourning, in meditation, yonder in Heaven had I 
been. By shewing thee also the means that thou once hadst to 
avoid this misery; Such a Minister I heard once, that told me of 
my particular sins, as if he had been told of me; such a friend per- 
swaded me once to turn over a new leaf: I remember so many 
knocks God gave at this Iron heart of mine, so many mercies the 
Lord sent; but oh, no meanes could prevail with me. Lastly, 
by shewing thee how easily thou mightest have avoided all these 
miseries. Oh, once I was almost perswaded to be a Christian, 
but I suffered my heart to grow dead, and fell to loose company, 
and so lost all. The Lord Jesus came unto my door and knocked, 
and if I had done that for Christ which I did for the Devil many a 
time to open at his knocks, I had been saved. A thousand such 
bites will this worm give at thine heart, which shall make thee cry 
out. Oh time, time ! Oh Sermons, Sermons ! Oh my hopes and 
my helps are now lost, that once I had to save my lost soul ! 



THOMAS SHEPARD 131 

4. Thou shalt take up thy lodging for ever with Devils, and they 
shall be thy companions: him thou hast served here, with him 
must thou dwell there. It scares men out of their wits almost, 
to see the Devil, as they think, when they be alone; but what hor- 
rour shall fill thy soul, when thou shalt be banished from Angels 
society, and come into the fellowship of Devils for ever? 

5. Thou shalt be filled with finall despair. If a man be grievously 
sick, it comforts him to think it will not last long. But if the 
Physitian tell him he must live all his life time in this extreamity, 
he thinks the poorest beggar in a better estate than himself. Oh to 
think when thou hast been millions of years in thy sorrows, then 
thou art no nearer thy end of bearing thy misery, then at the first 
coming in : Oh I might once have had mercy and Christ, but no 
hope now ever to have one glimpse of his face, or one good look from 
him any more. 

6. Thou shalt vomit out blasphemous oathes and curses in the 
face of God the Father for ever, and curse God that never elected 
thee, and curse the Lord Jesus that never shed one drop of bloud 
to redeem thee, and curse God the holy Ghost that passed by thee 
and never called thee, Rev. 16. 9. And here thou shalt lie and weep, 
and gnash thy teeth in spight against God and thy self, and roar, 
and stamp, and grow mad, that there thou must lie under the curse 
of God for ever. Thus (I say) thou shalt He blaspheming, with 
Gods wrath like a pile of fire on thy soul burning, and floods, nay 
seas, nay more, seas of tears (for thou shalt forever lie weeping) 
shall never quench it. And here which way soever thou lookest 
thou shalt see matter of everlasting grief. Look up to Heaven, 
and there thou shalt see (Oh) that God is for ever gone. Look 
about thee, thou shalt see Devils quaking, cursing God; and 
thousands, nay millions of sinfull, damned creatures crying and 
roaring out with dolefull shriekings: Oh the day that ever I was 
bom! Look within thee, there is a guilty conscience gnawing, 
Look to time past; Oh those golden days of grace, and sweet 
seasons of mercy are quite lost and gone ! Look to time to come, 
there thou shalt behold evils, troops and swarms of sorrows, and 
woes, and raging waves, and billows of wrath coming roaring upon 
thee. Look to time present. Oh not one hour or moment of ease 
or refreshing, but all curses meet together, and feeding upon one 



132 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

poor lost immortal soul, that never can be recovered again ! No 
God, no Christ, no Spirit to comfort thee, no Minister to preach 
unto thee, no friend to wipe away thy continual Tears, no Sun 
to shine upon thee, not a bit of bread, not one drop of water to 
cool thy tongue. 

This is the misery of every naturall man. 



ON THE DEATH OF HIS SECOND WIFE 

[From the "Autobiography"] 

But the Lord hath not been wont to let me live long without 
some aflSiction or other; and yet ever mixed with some mercy. 
And therefore, April the 2d, 1646, as he gave me another son, 
John, so he took away my most dear, precious, meek, and loving 
wife, in child-bed, after three weeks' lying-in ; having left behind 
her two hopeful branches, my dear children, Samuel and John. 
This affliction was very heavy to me ; for in it the Lord seemed to 
withdraw his tender care for me and mine, which he graciously 
manifested by my dear wife ; also refused to hear prayer, when I 
did think he would have hearkened and let me see his beauty in 
the land of the living, in restoring of her to health again ; also, in 
taking her away in the prime of her life, when she might have lived 
to have glorified the Lord long ; also, in threatening me to proceed 
in rooting out my family, and that he would not stop, having be- 
gun here, as in Eli, for not being zealous enough against the sins 
of his sons. And I saw that if I had profited by former afflictions 
of this nature, I should not have had this scourge. But I am the 
Lord's, and He may do with me what he will. He did teach me to 
prize a little grace, gained by a cross, as a sufficient recompense 
for all outward losses. 

But this loss was very great. She was a woman of incom- 
parable meekness of spirit, toward myself especially, and very 
loving; of great prudence to take care for and order my family 
affairs, being neither too lavish nor sordid in anything, so that I 
knew not what was under her hands. She had an excellency to 
reprove for sin, and discern the evils of men. She loved God's 
people dearly, and [was] studious to profit by their fellowship, 



THOMAS SHEPAKD 



133 



and therefore loved their company. She loved God's word 
exceedingly, and hence was glad she could read my notes, which 
she had to muse on every week. She had a spirit of prayer, beyond 
ordinary of her time and experience. She was fit to die long 
before she did die, even after the death of her first-born, which 
was a great affliction to her. But her work not being done then, 
she lived almost nine years with me, and was the comfort of my 
life to me ; and the last sacrament before her lying-in, seemed to be 
full of Christ, and thereby fitted for heaven. She did oft say she 
should not outlive this child ; and when her fever first began, by 
taking some cold, she told me so, that we should love exceedingly 
together, because we should not live long together. Her fever 
took away her sleep ; want of sleep wrought much distemper in her 
head, and filled it with fantasies and distractions, but without 
raging. The night before she died, she had about six hours' 
unquiet sleep. But that so cooled and settled her head, that when 
she knew none else, so as to speak to them, yet she knew Jesus 
Christ, and could speak to him; and therefore, as soon as she 
awakened out of sleep, she brake out into a most heavenly, heart- 
breaking prayer, after Christ, her dear Redeemer, for the spirit of 
life, and so continued praying until the last hour of her death, 
"Lord, though I [am] unworthy, Lord, one word, one word," &c.; 
and so gave up the ghost. 

Thus God hath visited and scourged me for my sins, and sought 
to wean me from this world. But I have ever found it a difficult 
thing to profit even but a little by the sorest and sharpest afflictions. 



EDWARD JOHNSON 



[Captain Edward Johnson's one book, "The Wonder-Working Provi- 
dence," stands as an example of literary composition by a vigorous and 
devout, but uncultured, Puritan layman. The author was born in Kent in 
1599, came to America with Governor Winthrop in 1630, aided in founding 
Woburn, Mass., in 1642, and from that time till his death in 1672 was promi- 
nent in the affairs of the town and the colony. His book, first published 
anonymously in London in 1654, was sedately designated on the title-page 
as "A History of New England from the English planting in the Yeere 1628 
untill the Yeere 1652," but it has come to be all but universally known by the 
running title of "The Wonder-Working Providence of Sions Saviour in 
New England." A later edition was prefixed by a title-page erroneously 
ascribing the book to Sir Ferdinando Gorges. 

Captain Johnson wrote with the object of showing the immediate hand 
of God in the planting and development of New England. He mentions 
the results of each annual election for governor and deputy-governor, records 
in detail the founding of each new church, and narrates other events of in- 
terest. His work is, however, more valuable as a literary curiosity than as 
history. His freedom from the pedantry that characterized his more learned 
contemporaries, the freshness and originality of his diction and figures of 
speech, his formless sentences, perhaps made more rude by an unintelligent 
printer, all give the book a delightful individuality. Even the spelling is 
more than usually original. It is a pleasure to meet the Mohicans as "Maw- 
higgins," or to find the good governor of Massachusetts designated as " John 
Indicat." Not the least amusing part of the book are the attempts at verse, 
which the author introduces for the especial commemoration of men and 
events. But while the reader finds much in "The Wonder-Working Provi- 
dence" that is ridiculous, he should notice that the author always reveals 
himself as a man worthy of respect, and to some extent of admiration. 

The selections follow the reprint of "The Wonder-Working Providence" 
in the Collections of the Massachusetts Historical Society, Second Series.] 

OF THE FIRST PREPARATION OF THE MARCHANT 
ADVENTURERS, IN THE MATTACHUSETS 

[Chap. IX, Book I, of "The Wonder-Working Providence of Sions Saviour 
in New England"] 

Now it will be time to returne againe to England, to speake 
further of the people that wee left in way of preparation; who in 

134 



EDWARD JOHNSON I35 

the yeare 1628, sent forth some store of servants to provide against 
the wants of a Desart Wildernesse, amongst whom came over a 
mixt multitude, insomuch that very Httle appeared of the following 
worke, onely the much honoured Mr. John Indicat, came over 
with them to governe, a fit instrument to begin this Wildernesse- 
worke, of courage bold undanted, yet sociable, and of a cheerful! 
spirit, loving and austere, applying himselfe to either as occasion 
served. And now let no man be offended at the Authors rude 
Verse, penned of purpose to keepe in memory the Names of such 
Worthies as Christ made strong for himselfe, in this unwonted 
worke of his. 

John Endicat titnce Gover[n]our of the English, inhabiting the Mattachusets 
Bay in N. England 

Strong valiant John wilt thou march on, and take up station first, 

Christ cal'd hath thee, his Souldier be, and faile not of thy trust; 
Wilderness wants Christs grace supplants, then plant his Churches pure, 

With Tongues gifted, and graces led, help thou to his procure; 
Undanted thou wilt not allow, Malignant men to wast: 

Christs Vineyard heere, whose grace should cheer, his well-beloved's tast. 
Then honoured be, thy Christ hath thee their Generall promoted: 

To shew their love, in place above, his people have thee voted. 
Yet must thou fall, to grave with all the Nobles of the Earth, 

Thou rotting worme, to dust must turn, and worse but for new birth. 

The place picked out by this People to settle themselves in, was 
in the bosome of the out-stretched arme of Cape Anne, now called 
Gloster, but at the place of their abode they began to build a 
Town, which is called Salem, after some little space of time having 
made tryall of the Sordid spirits of the Neighbouring Indians, the 
most bold among them began to gather to divers places, which they 
began to take up for their owne, those that were sent over servants, 
having itching desires after novelties, found a reddier way to make 
an end of their Masters provision, then they could find meanes to 
get more; They that came over their own men had but little left 
to feed on, and most began to repent when their strong Beere and 
full cups ran as small as water in a large Land, but little Corne, 
and the poore Indian so far from relieving them, that they were 
forced to lengthen out their owne food with Acorns, and that 



136 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

which added to their present distracted thoughts, the Ditch be- 
tweene England and their now place of abode was so wide, that they 
could not leap over with a lope-staffe, yet some delighting their 
Eye with the rarity of things present, and feeding their fancies 
with new discoveries at the Springs approach, they made shift to 
rub out the Winters cold by the Fire-side, having fuell enough 
growing at their very doores, turning down many a drop of the 
Bottell, and burning Tobacco with all the ease they could, dis- 
coursing betweene one while and another, of the great progresse 
they would make after the Summers-Sun had changed the Earths 
white furr'd Gowne into a greene Mantell. Now the vernall of 
thirty [twenty] nine being come, they addrest themselves to coste 
it as far as they durst for feare of losing themselves, or falling into 
the hands of unknown Indians, being kept in awe by a report of 
a cruell people, not far of called the Tarratines. All this while 
little like-lihood there was building the Temple for Gods worship, 
there being only two that began to hew stones in the Mountaines, 
the one named Mr. Bright, and the other Mr. Blaxton, and one of 
them began to build, but when they saw all sorts of stones would 
not fit in the building, as they supposed, the one betooke him to the 
Seas againe, and the other to till the Land, retaining no simbole of 
his former profession, but a Canonicall Coate. 

OF THE VOLUNTARY BANISHMENT, CHOSEN BY 
THIS PEOPLE OF CHRIST, AND THEIR LAST 
FAREWELL TAKEN OF THEIR COUNTRY AND 
FRIENDS 

[Chap. XII, Book I, of "The Wonder-Working Providence"] 

And now behold the severall Regiments of these Souldiers of 
Christ, as they are shipped for his service in the Western World, 
part thereof being come to the Towne and Port of Southampton 
in England, where they were to be shipped, that the[y] might 
prosecute this designe to the full, one Ship called the Eagle, they 
wholly purchase, and many more they hire, filling them with the 
seede of man and beast to sow this yet untilled Wildernesse with- 
all, making sale of such Land as they possesse, to the great ad- 



EDWARD JOHNSON 137 

miration of their Friends and Acquaintance, who thus expostulate 
with them, What, will not the large income of your yearly revenue 
content you, which in all reason cannot chuse but be more ad- 
vantageous both to you and yours, then all that Rocky Wildernesse, 
whither you are going, to run the hazard of your life ? Have you 
not here your Tables filled with great variety of Foode, your 
Coffers filled with Coyne, your Houses beautifully built and filled 
with all rich Furniture? (or otherwise) have you not such a 
gainfull Trade as none the like in the Towne where you live ? Are 
you not inriched daily ? Are not your Children very well pro- 
vided for as they come to years ? (nay) may you not here as pithily 
practise the two chiefe Duties of a Christian (if Christ give strength) 
namely Mortification and Sanctification as in any place of the 
World ? What helps can you have there that you must not carry 
from hence? With bold resolvednesse these stout Souldiers of 
Christ reply; as Death, the King of terror with all his dreadfull 
attendance inhumane and barbarous, tortures doubled and trebled 
by all the infernall furies have appeared but light and momentary 
to the Souldiers of Christ Jesus, so also the Pleasure, Profits and 
Honours of this World set forth in their most glorious splendor, 
and magnitude by the alluring Lady of Delight, proffering pleasant 
embraces, cannot intice with her Syren Songs, such Souldiers of 
Christ, whose aymes are elevated by him, many Millions above 
that brave Warrier Ulysses. 

Now seeing all can be said will but barely set forth the immove- 
able Resolutions that Christ continued in these men ; Passe on and 
attend with teares, if thou hast any, the following discourse, while 
these Men, Women and Children are taking their last farewell of 
their Native Country, Kindred, Friends and Acquaintance, while 
the Ships attend them; Many make choise of some solitary place 
to eccho out their bowell-breaking affections in bidding their 
Friends farewell, deare friends (sayes one) as neare as my owne 
soule doth thy love lodge in my brest, with thought of the heart- 
burning Ravishments, that thy Heavenly speeches have wrought ; 
my melting soule is poured out at present with these words, both 
of them had their farther speach strangled from the depth of their 
inward dolor, with breast-breaking sobs, till leaning their heads 
each on others shoulders, they let fall the salt-dropping dews of 



138 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

vehement affection, striving to exceede one another, much like the 
departure of David and Jonathan : having a little eased their hearts 
with the still streames of Teares, they recovered speech againe. 
Ah ! my much honoured friend, hath Christ given thee so great a 
charge as to be Leader of his People into that far remote, and vast 
Wildernesse, I, oh, and alas thou must die there and never shall I 
see thy Face in the flesh againe, wert thou called to so great a taske 
as to passe the pretious Ocean, and hazard thy person in Battell 
against thousands of Malignant Enemies there ? there were hopes 
of thy return with triumph, but now after two, three, or foure 
moneths spent with daily expectation of swallowing Waves, and 
cruell Pirates, you are to be landed among barbarous Indians, 
famous for nothing but cruelty, where you are like to spend your 
days in a famishing condition for a long space; Scarce had he 
uttered this, but presently hee lockes his friend fast in his armes, 
holding each other thus for some space of time, they weepe againe. 
But as Paul to his beloved flock : the other replies what doe you 
weeping and breaking my heart ? I am now prest for the service 
of our Lord Christ, to re-build the most glorious Edifice of Mount 
Sion in a Wildernesse, and as John Baptist, I must cry prepare yee 
the way of the Lord, make his paths strait, for behold hee is com- 
ming againe, hee is comming to destroy Antichrist, and give the 
whore double to drinke the very dregs of his wrath. 

Then my deare friend unfold thy hands, for thou and I have 
much worke to doe, I and all Christian Souldiers the World 
throughout, then hand in hand they leade each other to the Sandy- 
banks of the brinish Ocean, when clenching their hands fast, 
they unloose not til inforced to wipe their watery-eyes, whose con- 
stant streames forced a watery-path upon their Cheeks, which to 
hide from the eyes of others they shun society for a time, but being 
called by occasion, whose bauld back-part none can lay hold one ; 
They thrust in among the throng now ready to take Ship, where 
they beheld the like affections with their own among divers Re- 
lations, Husbands and Wives with mutuall consent are now pur- 
posed to part for a time 900 Leagues asunder, since some provi- 
dence at present will not suffer them to goe together, they resolve 
their tender affections shall not hinder this worke of Christ, the 
new Married and betrothed man, exempt by the Law of God from 



EDWARD JOHNSON 1 39 

war, now will not claime their priviledge, but being constrained 
by the Love of Christ, lock up their naturall affections for a time, 
till the Lord shall be pleased to give them a meeting in this West- 
erne World, sweetly mixing it with spirituall love, in the meane 
time many Fathers now take their yong Samuells, and give them 
to this service of Christ all their Lives. Brethren, Sisters, Unkles, 
Nephewes, Neeces, together with all Kindred of bloud that binds 
the bowells of affection in a true Lovers knot, can now take their 
last farewell, each of other, although naturall affection will still 
claime her right, and manifest her selfe to bee in the body by 
looking out at the Windowes in a mournefuU manner among this 
company, thus disposed doth many Reverend and godly Pastors 
of Christ present themselves, some in a Seamans Habit, and their 
scattered sheepe comming as a poore Convoy loftily take their 
leave of them as followeth, what dolefuU dayes are these, when the 
best choise our Orthodox Ministers can make is to take up a per- 
petuall banishment from their native soile, together with their 
Wives and Children, wee their poore sheepe they may not feede, but 
by stoledred should they abide here. Lord Christ, here they are 
at thy command, they go, this is the doore thou hast opened upon 
our earnest request, and we hope it shall never be shut : For Eng- 
lands sake they are going from England to pray without ceasing 
for England, O England ! thou shalt finde New England prayers 
prevailing with their God for thee, but now woe alas, what great 
hardship must these our indeared Pastors indure for a long season, 
with these words they hft up their voyces and wept, adding many 
drops of salt liquor to the ebbing Ocean ; Then shaking hands they 
bid adue with much cordiall affection to all their Brethren, and 
Sisters in Christ, yet now the Scorne and Derision of those times, 
and for this their great enterprise counted as so many crackt- 
braines, but Christ will make all the Earth know the wisdome he 
hath indued them with, shall over-top all the humane policy in 
the World, as the sequell wee hope will shew; Thus much shall 
suffice in generall to speak of their peoples farewell they tooke 
from time to time of their Country and Friends. 



I40 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

OF THE GREAT CHEEREFULNESSE OF THEIR 
. SOULDIERS OF CHRIST, IN AND UNDER THE 
PENURIES OF A WILDERNESSE 

[Chap. XXIV, Book I, of " The Wonder-Working Providence "] 

These were the beginnings of these resolute Souldiers of Christ 
Jesus in the yeare, 163 1. Even to lay the foundation of their 
severall Churches of Christ, built onely on him as their chiefe 
Corner Stone. But as his chosen Israel met with many difficulties 
after their returne from Captivity, in building the Temple and 
City, which they valiantly waded through ; So these weake wormes 
(Oh Christ to thy praise be it spoken,) were most wonderfully 
holpen in such distresses, as to appearance of man seemed to 
be both hopelesse, and helplesse, threatening destruction to the 
whole building, and far from accomplishing such great things 
as you have in part scene already, and shall in the following dis- 
course (God willing) see more abundantly, adding a strong testi- 
mony to the work, that as it was begun by Christ, so hath it beene 
carried on by him, and shall to the admiration of the whole World 
be perfected in his time, and unlesse men will be wilfully blinde, 
they must needs see and confesse the same, and that the influence 
thereof hath already run from one end of the Earth unto the 
other. 

This yeare 1631 John Winthrop Esq. was chosen Governour, 
pickt out for the worke,by the provident hand of the most high, and 
inabled with gifts accordingly, then all the folke of Christ, who 
have scene his face and beene partaker of the same, remember 
him in this following Meeter. 

John Winthrope Esq. Eleven times Governour of (he English Nation, inhabit- 
ing the Mattacusets Bay in New England 

Why leavest thou John, thy station, in Suffolk, thy own soile, 

Christ will have thee a pillar be, for's people thou must toyle. 
He chang'd thy heart, then take his part, 'gainst prelates proud invading. 

(His Kingly throne) set up alone, in wildernesse their shading. 
His little flocks from Prelates knocks, twice ten years rul'd thou hast, 

With civill sword at Christs word and eleven times been trast. 
By Name and Note, with peoples vote, their Governour to be. 

Thy means hast spent, 'twas therefore lent, to raise this work by thee. 



EDWARD JOHNSON I4I 

Well artn'd and strong, with sword among, Christ armies marcheth he, 

Doth valiant praise, and weak one raise, with kind benignity. 
To lead the Van, 'gainst Babylon, doth worthy Winthrop call, 

Thy Progeny, shall Battell try, when Prelacy shall fall. 
With fluent Tongue thy Pen doth run, in learned Latine Phrase, 

To Sweads, French, Dutch, thy Neighbours, which thy lady rhetorick 
praise. 
Thy bounty feeds, Christs servants needs, in wildernesse of wants 

To Indians thou Christs Gospell now, 'mongst heathen people plants. 
Yet thou poore dust, now dead and must, to rottennesse be brought, 

Till Christ restore thee glorious, more then can of dust be thought. 

The much honoured Thomas Dudly Esquire was chosen Dep- 
uty Governour, and the number of Free-men added was about 83. 
Those honoured persons who were now in place of Government, 
having the propagation of the Churches of Christ, in their eye 
laboured by all meanes to make room for Inhabitants, knowing 
well that where the dead carkass is, thither will the Eagles resort. 
But herein they were much opposed by certaine persons, whose 
greedy desire for land much hindered the worke for a time, as 
indeed all such persons do at this very day, and let such take notice 
how these were cured of this distemper, some were taken away by 
death, and then to be sure they had Land enough, others fearing 
poverty, and famishment, supposing the present scarcity would 
never be turned into plenty, removed themselves away, and so 
never beheld the great good the Lord hath done for his people, 
but the valiant of the Lord waited with patience, and in the misse 
of beere supplied themselves with water, even the most honoured 
as well as others, contentedly rejoycing in a Cup of cold water, 
blessing the Lord that had given them the taste of that living water, 
and that they had not the water that slackes the thirst of their 
naturall bodies, given them by measure, but might drinke to the 
full ; as also in the absence of Bread they feasted themselves with 
fish, the Women once a day, as the tide gave way, resorted to the 
Mussells and Clambankes, which are a fish as bigas Horse-mussels, 
where they daily gathered their Families food with much heavenly 
discourse of the provisions Christ had formerly made for many 
thousands of his followers in the wildernesse. Quoth one, my Hus- 
band hath travailed as far as Plimoth (which is neere 40 miles,) 
and hath with great toile brought a little Corne home with him, and 



142 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

before that is spent the Lord will assuredly provide: quoth the 
other, our last peck of meale is now in the Oven at home a baking, 
and many of our godly Neighbours have quite spent all, and wee 
owe one Loafe of that little wee have; Then spake a third, my 
husband hath ventured himselfe among the Indians for Corne, 
and can get none, as also our honoured Governour hath distributed 
his so far, that a day or two more will put an end to his store, and 
all the rest, and yet methinks our Children are as cheerefull, fat, 
and lusty with feeding upon those Mussells, Clambanks and other 
Fish as they were in England, with their fill of Bread, which makes 
mee cheerfull in the Lords providing for us, being further con- 
firmed by the exhortation of our Pastor to trust the Lord with pro- 
viding for us ; whose is the Earth and the f ulnesse thereof. And 
as they were incouraging one another in Christs carefull providing 
for them, they lift up their eyes and saw two Ships comming in, 
and presently this newes came to their Eares, that they were come 
from Jacland full of Victualls, now their poore hearts were not so 
much refreshed in regard of the food they saw they were like to 
have, as their soules rejoyced in that Christ would now manifest 
himselfe to be the Commissary Generall of this his Army, and that 
hee should honour them so far as to be poore Sutlers for his Camp, 
they soone up with their Mussells, and hie them home to stay 
their hungry stomacks. After this manner did Christ many times 
graciously provide for this his people, even at the last cast. 

THE EXTERMINATION OF THE PEQUOTS 

[From "The Wonder-Working Providence," Book II, Chap. VI] 

After the Ministers of Christ had, through the grace that was 
given them, exhorted and encouraged these Souldiers appointed 
for the work, they being provided with certaine Indian guides, 
who with the close of the day brought them to a small river, where 
they could perceive many persons had been dressing of fish ; upon 
the sight thereof, the Indian guides concluded they were now a 
feasting it at their fort,. which was hard at hand; the English call- 
ing a Councill of warre, being directed by the speciallist provi- 
dence of the most high God, they concluded to storm the fort a 
little before break of day; at which time they supposed the Indians 



EDWARD JOHNSON 1 43 

being up late in their jolly feasting, would bee in their deepest 
sleepe; and surely so it was, for they now slept their last; the 
English keeping themselves as covertly as they could, approached 
the fort at the time appointed, which was builded of whole Trees 
set in the ground fast, and standing up an end about twelve foot 
high, very large, having pitcht their Wigwams within it, the en- 
trance being on two sides, with intricate Meanders to enter. The 
chiefe Leaders of the English made some little stand before they 
offered to enter, but yet boldly they rushed on, and found the 
passages guarded at each place with an Indian Bow-man, ready on 
the string, they soone let fly, and wounded the foremost of the 
English in the shoulder, yet having dispatch'd the Porters, they 
found the winding way in without a Guide, where they soone placed 
themselves round the Wigwams, and according to direction they 
made their first shot with the muzzle of their Muskets downe to 
the ground, knowing the Indian manner is to lie on the ground to 
sleep, from which they being in this terrible manner awakened, 
unlesse it were such as were slaine with the shot. 

After this some of the English entred the Wigwams, where they 
received some shot with their Arrowes, yet catching up the fire- 
brands, they began to fire them, and others of the English Soul- 
diers with powder, did the same: the day now began to break; 
the Lord intending to have these murtherers know he would looke 
out of the cloudy pillar upon them : and now these women and 
children set up a terrible out-cry; the men were smitten down, and 
slaine, as they came forth with a great slaughter, the Sqawes 
crying out, oh much winn it Englishman, who moved with pitty 
toward them, saved their lives : and hereupon some young youth 
cried, I squaw, I squaw, thinking to finde the like mercy. There 
were some of these Indians, as is reported, whose bodyes were not 
to be pierced by their sharp rapiers or swords of a long time, 
which made some of the Souldiers think the Devil was in them, 
for there were some Powwowes among them, which work strange 
things, with the help of Satan. But this was very remarkable, 
one of them being wounded to death, and thrust thorow the neck 
with a Halbert; yet after all, lying groaning upon the ground, he 
caught the halberts speare in his hand, and wound it quite round. 
After the English were thus possessed of this first victory, they sent 



144 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

their prisoners to the pinnaces, and prosecute the warre in hand, to 
the next Battalia of the Indians, which lay on a hill about two miles 
distant, and indeed their stoutest Souldiers were at this place, 
and not yet come to the fort; the English being weary with their 
night worke, and wanting such refreshing as the present worke 
required, began to grow faint, yet having obtained one victory, 
they were very desirous of another : and further, they knew right- 
well, till this cursed crew were utterly rooted out, they should 
never be at peace; therefore they marched on toward them. 
Now assuredly, had the Indians knowne how much weakened our 
Souldiers were at present, they might have born them downe with 
their multitude, they being very strong and agile of body, had 
they come to handy-gripes; but the Lord (who would have his 
people know their work was his, and he onely must order their 
Counsels, and war-like work for them) did bring them timely sup- 
ply from the vessels, and also gave them a second victory, wherein 
they slew many more of their enemies, the residue flying into a 
very thick swamp, being unaccessible, by reason of the boggy 
holes of water, and thick bushes; the English drawing up their 
company beleagered the swamp, and the Indians in the mean time 
skulking up and down, And as they saw opportunity they made 
shot with their Arrowes at the English, and then suddainly they 
would fall flat along in the water to defend themselves from the 
retalliation of the Souldiers Muskets. This lasted not long, for 
our English being but a small number, had parted themselves far 
asunder, but by the providence of the most high God, some of 
them spyed an Indian with a kettle at his back going more in- 
wardly into the swamp, by which they perceived there was some 
place of firm land in the midst thereof, which caused them to make 
way for the passage of their Souldiers, which brought this warre 
to a period : For although many got away, yet were they no such 
considerable number as ever to raise warre any more; the slaine 
or wounded of the English were (through the mercy of Christ) 
but a few : One of them being shot through the body, neere about 
the breast, regarding it not till of a long time after, which caused 
the bloud to dry and thicken on eitheir end of the arrow so that it 
could not be drawne forth his body without great difl&culty and 
much paine, yet did he scape his life, and the wound healed. 



EDWARD JOHNSON 1 45 

Thus the Lord was pleased to assist his people in this warre, and 
deliver them out of the Indians hands, who were very lusty proper 
men of their hands, most of them, as may appear by one passage 
which I shall here relate : thus it came to passe, As the Souldiers 
were uppon their march, close by a great thicket, where no eye 
could penetrate farre, as it often falls out in such wearisom wayes, 
where neither men nor beast have beaten out a path; some 
Souldiers lingering behinde their fellowes, two Indians watching 
their opportunity, much like a hungry hauke, when they supposed 
the last man was come up, who kept a double double double dis- 
tance in his march, they sudden and swiftly snatched him up in 
their tallens, hoising him upon their shoulders, ran into the swamp 
with him; the Souldier being unwilling to be made a Pope by 
being borne on mens shoulders, strove with them all he could to 
free himselfe from their hands; but, like a carefuU Commander, 
one Captaine Davenport, then Lieutenant of this company, being 
diligent in his place to bring up the reare, coming up with them, 
followed with speed into the swamp after him, having a very severe 
cutlace tyed to his wrist, and being well able to make it bite sore 
when he set it on, resolving to make it fall foul on the Indians 
bones, he soone overtooke them, but was prevented by the buckler 
they held up from hitting them, which was the man they had taken : 
It was matter of much wonder to see with what dexterity they 
hurled the poore Souldier about, as if they had been handling a 
Lacedsemonian shield, so that the nimble Captaine Davenport 
could not, of a long time, fasten one stroke upon them; yet, at 
last, dying their tawny skin into a crimson colour, they cast downe 
their prey, and hasted thorow the thickets for their lives. The 
Souldier thus redeemed, had no such hard usage, but that he is 
alive, as I suppose, at this very day: The Lord in mercy toward 
his poore Churches, having thus destroyed these bloudy barba- 
rous Indians, he returnes his people in safety to their vessels, where 
they take account of their prisoners : the Squawes and some young 
youths they brought home with them, and finding the men to be 
deeply guilty of the crimes they undertooke the warre for, they 
brought away onely their heads as a token of their victory. By 
this means the Lord strook a trembling terror into all the Indians 
round about, even to this very day. 



ANNE BRADSTREET 

[The chief poetess of the colonial time was born in England about 1612, 
the daughter of Thomas Dudley; and was married in 1628 to Simon Brad- 
street. In 1630 she came to America, where both her father and her hus- 
band later served as governors of Massachusetts. Here she became the 
mother of eight children, and performed faithfully the manifold household 
and social duties that devolved on a woman of her station; and in some way 
she also found time to write a considerable body of verse. A great part of 
this was taken to England by her brother-in-law, and published in London 
in 1650, with the title "The Tenth Muse Lately sprung up in America. Or 
Severall Poems, compiled with great Variety of Wit and Learning," etc. The 
author appears to have been far too modest and too sensible to approve this 
absurd designation, and it is unfortunate that her work was weighted down 
with it. A second edition, published in Boston in 1678, six years after Mrs. 
Bradstreet's death, contained a number of additional poems, and showed 
many changes made by the author in those that had appeared earlier. Mrs. 
Bradstreet seems never to have sought publicity, and it is probable that 
many of her more personal poems, such as the last two in the selections that 
follow, were never intended to be printed. Besides her poems, she wrote 
for members of her family a short account of her religious experiences, and 
a series of "Meditations, Divine and Morall," of which a few specimens are 
given later. 

Anne Bradstreet's avowed master was the French poet Du Bartas, whose 
works had been translated into English by Sylvester; though some of her 
later poems show influence of the school of Spenser. Her ambitious verses 
— those not relating to personal affairs and intended for her family — were 
didactic. The greater part of "The Tenth Muse" was taken up by five 
poems: "The Four Elements," "The Four Humours in Man's Constitu- 
tion," "The Four Ages of Man," "The Four Seasons of the Year," and 
"The Four Monarchies." The last and longest of these "quaternions" is 
based on Sir Walter Raleigh's "History of the World." "Contemplations," 
which is usually considered the author's best poem, first appeared in the ; 
edition of 1678. It is given complete in the following pages, and serves to 
illustrate most of her excellences and her weaknesses. A few stanzas show 
genuine emotion, an appreciation of nature unusual in her day, and an ear '< 
for musical verse; others show lapses into the prosaic, and above all, the j 
author's tendency to sacrifice everything to rather profitless moralizing. 
Faulty as Mrs. Bradstreet's work is, however, it gives evidence of more | 
genuine poetic feeling than any other body of verse written in America in 
the seventeenth century, and deserves study as the work of a pioneer. 

146 



ANNE BRADSTREET 147 

The selections follow the edition of Anne Bradstreet's works, by John 
Harvard Ellis, 1867. The poem entitled "Longing for Heaven," and the 
"Meditations," were first printed in this edition, from the author's manu- 
script. "Contemplations" and "To my Dear and Loving Husband" first 
appeared in the edition of 1678. The others were included in "The Tenth 
Muse." The text of all these poems, except the two printed for the first 
time by Mr. Ellis, is that of the edition of 1678.] 

PROLOGUE 



To sing of Wars, of Captains, and of Kings, 
Of Cities founded, Common-wealths begun, 
For my mean pen are too superiour things: 
Or how they all, or each their dates have run 
Let Poets and Historians set these forth, 
My obscure Lines shall not so dim their worth. 



But when my wondring eyes and envious heart 
Great Bartas sugar'd lines, do but read o're 
Fool I do grudg the Muses did not part 
'Twixt him and me that overfluent store; 
A Bartas can, do what a Bartas will 
But simple I according to my skill. 

3 

From school-boyes tongue no rhet'rick we expect 
Nor yet a sweet Consort from broken strings, 
Nor perfect beauty, where's a main defect: 
My foolish, broken, blemish'd Muse so sings 
And this to mend, alas, no Art is able, 
'Cause nature, made it so irreparable. 

4 

Nor can I, like that fluent sweet tongu'd Greek, 
Who lisp'd at first, in future times speak plain 
By Art he gladly found what he did seek 



148 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

A full requital of his, striving pain 

Art can do much, but this maxime's most sure 

A weak or wounded brain admits no cure. 

5 

I am obnoxious to each carping tongue 
Who says my hand a needle better fits, 
A Poets pen all scorn I should thus wrong, 
For such despite they cast on Female wits: 
If what I do prove well, it won't advance, 
They'l say it's stoln, or else it was by chance. 



But sure the Antique Greeks were far more mild 
Else of our Sexe, why feigned they those Nine 
And poesy made. Calliope's own Child; 
So 'mongst the rest they placed the Arts Divine, 
But this weak knot, they will full soon untie, 
The Greeks did nought, but play the fools & lye. 



Let Greeks be Greeks, and women what they are 

Men have precedency and still excell. 

It is but vain unjustly to wage warre : 

Men can do best, and women know it well 

Preheminence in all and each is yours; 

Yet grant some small acknowledgement of ours. 

8 

And oh ye high flown quills that soar the Skies, 
And ever with your prey still catch your praise, 
If e're you daigne these lowly lines your eyes 
Give Thyme or Parsley wreath, I ask no bayes, 
This mean and unrefined ure of mine 
Will make you glistring gold, but more to shine. 



ANNE BRADSTREET I49 

OF THE FOUR AGES OF MAN 

[The introductory section of the poem] 

Lo now four other act upon the stage, 

Childhood and Youth, the Manly & Old age; 

The first son unto flegm. Grand-child to water, 

Unstable, supple, cold and moist's his nature. 

The second frolick, claims his pedegree 

From blood and air, for hot and moist is he. 

The third of fire and Choler is compos'd 

Vindicative and quarrelsome dispos'd. 

The last of earth, and heavy melancholy, 

Solid, hating all lightness and all folly. 

Childhood v/as cloth'd in white & green to show 

His spring was intermixed with some snow: 

Upon his head nature a Garland set 

Of Primrose, Daizy & the Violet. 

Such cold mean flowrs the spring puts forth betime 

Before the sun hath throughly heat the clime. 

His Hobby striding did not ride but run. 

And in his hand an hour-glass new begun, 

In danger every moment of a fall, 

And when tis broke then ends his life and all: 

But if he hold till it have run its last. 

Then may he live out threescore years or past. 

Next Youth came up in gorgeous attire, 

(As that fond age doth most of all desire) 

His Suit of Crimson and his scarfe of green, 

His pride in's countenance was quickly seen, 

Garland of roses, pinks and gilli-flowers 

Seemed on's head to grow bedew'd with showers: 

His face as fresh as is Aurora fair. 

When blushing she first 'gins to light the air. 

No wooden horse, but one of mettal try'd. 

He seems to fly or swim, and not to ride. 

Then prancing on the stage, about he wheels, 

But as he went death waited at his heels. 



150 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

The next came up in a much graver sort, 

As one that cared for a good report, 

His sword by's side, and choler in his eyes, 

But neither us'd as yet, for he was wise: 

Of Autumns fruits a basket on his arm, 

His golden God in's purse, which was his charm. 

And last of all to act upon this stage 

Leaning upon his staff came up Old Age, 

Under his arm a sheaf of wheat he bore, 

An harvest of the best, what needs he more? 

In's other hand a glass ev'n almost run. 

Thus writ about This out then am I done. 

His hoary hairs, and grave aspect made way, 

And all gave ear to what he had to say. 

These being met each in his equipage 

Intend to speak according to their age: 

But wise Old age did with all gravity 

To childish Childhood give precedency. 

And to the rest his reason mildly told. 

That he was young before he grew so old. 

To do as he each one full soon assents, 

Their method was that of the Elements, 

That each should tell what of himself he knew, 

Both good and bad, but yet no more then's true. 

With heed now stood three ages of frail man, 

To hear the child, who crying thus began: 

SPRING 

[From " The Four Seasons of the Year "] 

Another four I've left yet to bring on. 

Of four times four the last Quaternion, 

The Winter, Summer, Autumn & the Spring, 

In season all these Seasons I shall bring: 

Sweet Spring like man in his Minority, 

At present claim'd and had priority. 

With smiling face and garments somewhat green, 

She trim'd her locks, which late had frosted been, 



ANNE BRAD STREET 15I 

Nor hot nor cold, she spake, but with a breath, 
Fit to revive, the nummed earth from death. 
Three months (quoth she) are 'lotted to my share 
March, April, May of all the rest most fair. 
Tenth of the first, Sol into Aries enters, 
And bids defiance to all tedious winters, 
Crosseth the Line, and equals night and day, 
(Stil adds to th' last til after pleasant May) 
And now makes glad the darkned northern wights 
Who for some months have seen but starry lights. 
Now goes the Plow-man to his merry toyle, 
He might unloose his winter locked soyl: 
The Seeds-man too, doth lavish out his grain. 
In hope the more he casts, the more to gain: 
The Gardner now superfluous branches lops, 
And poles erects for his young clambring hops. 
Now digs then sowes his herbs, his flowers & roots 
And carefully manures his trees of fruits. 
The Pleiades their influence now give, 
And all that seem'd as dead afresh doth live. 
The croaking frogs, whom nipping winter kil'd, 
Like birds now chirp, and hop about the field, 
The Nightingale, the black-bird and the Thrush 
Now tune their layes, on sprayes of every bush. 
The wanton frisking Kid, and soft-fleec'd Lambs 
Do jump and play before their feeding Dams, 
The tender tops of budding grass they crop. 
They joy in what they have, but more in hope: 
For though the frost hath lost his binding power, 
Yet many a fleece of snow and stormy shower 
Doth darken SoVs bright eye, makes us remember 
The pinching North-west wind of cold December. 
My second moneth is April, green and fair, 
Of longer dayes, and a more temperate Air. 
The Sun in Tatirus keeps his residence. 
And with his warmer beams glanceth from thence 
This is the month whose fruitful showrs produces 
All set and sown for all delights and uses: 



152 



EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

The Pear, the Plum, and Apple-tree now flourish 

The grass grows long the hungry beast to nourish. 

The Primrose pale, and azure violet 

Among the virduous grass hath nature set, 

That when the Sun on's Love (the earth) doth shine 

These might as lace set out her garment fine. 

The fearfull bird his little house now builds 

In trees and walls, in Cities and in fields. 

The outside strong, the inside warm and neat; 

A natural Artificer compleat. 

The clocking hen her chirping chickins leads 

With wings & beak defends them from the gleads 

My next and last is fruitfull pleasant May. 

Wherein the earth is clad in rich aray, 

The Sun now enters loving Gemini, 

And heats us with the glances of his eye, 

Our thicker rayment makes us lay aside 

Lest by his fervor we be torrifi'd. 

All flowers the Sun now with his beams discloses, 

Except the double pinks and matchless Roses. 

Now swarms the busy, witty honey-Bee, 

Whose praise deserves a page from more then me 

The cleanly Huswifes Dary's now in th' prime, 

Her shelves and firkins fill'd for winter time. 

The meads with Cowslips, Honey-suckles dight. 

One hangs his head, the other stands upright: 

But both rejoyce at th'heavens clear smiling face. 

More at her showers, which water them a space. 

For fruits my Season yields the early Cherry, 

The hasty Peas, and wholesome cool Strawberry. 

More solid fruits require a longer time. 

Each Season hath his fruit, so hath each Clime: 

Each man his own peculiar excellence. 

But none in all that hath preheminence. 

Sweet fragrant Spring, with thy short pittance fly 

Let some describe thee better then can L 

Yet above all this priviledg is thine. 

Thy dayes still lengthen without least decline: 



ANNE BRAD STREET 

THE FOUNDING OF ROME 

[From "The Four Monarchies"] 

Stout Romulus, Romes founder, and first King, 

Whom vestal Rhea to the world did bring: 

His Father was not Mars as some devis'd. 

But Mmtilus in Armour all disguiz'd : 

Thus he deceiv'd his Neece, she might not know 

The double injury he then did do. 

Where sheperds once had Coats & sheep their folds 

Where Swains & rustick Peasants kept their holds, 

A City fair did Romulus erect, 

The Mistress of the World, in each respect. 

His brother Rhemus there by him was slain. 

For leaping o're the wall with some disdain. 

The stones at first was cemented with blood. 

And bloody hath it prov'd, since first it stood. 

This City built and Sacrifices done, 

A Form of Government, he next begun; 

A hundred Senators he likewise chose, 

And with the style of Patres, honoured those, 

His City to replenish, men he wants. 

Great priviledges then to all he grants; 

That will within those strong built walls reside, 

And this new gentle Government abide. 

Of wives there was so great a scarcity. 

They to their neighbours sue for a supply; 

But all disdain Alliance, then to make, 

So Romulus was forc'd this course to take: 

Great shews he makes at Tilt and Turnament, 

To see these sports, the Sabins all are bent. 

Their daughters by the Romans then were caught, 

Then to recover them a Field was fought; 

But in the end, to final peace they come. 

And Sabins as one people dwelt in Rome. 

The Romans now more potent 'gin to grow, 

And Fedinates they wholly overthrow. 

But Romulus then comes unto his end. 



153 



154 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

Some feigning to the Gods he did ascend: 
Others the seven and thirtyeth of his reign, 
Affirm, that by the Senate he was slain. 

CONTEMPLATIONS 

Some time now past in the Autumnal Tide, 
When Phcebus wanted but one hour to bed, 
The trees all richly clad, yet void of pride, 
Where gilded o're by his rich golden head. 
Their leaves & fruits seem'd painted, but was true 
Of green, of red, of yellow, mixed hew. 
Rapt were my sences at this delectable view. 



I wist not what to wish, yet sure thought I, 

If so much excellence abide below; 

How excellent is he that dwells on high? 

Whose power and beauty by his works we know. 

Sure he is goodness, wisdome, glory, light, 

That hath this under world so richly dight: 

More Heaven then Earth was here no winter & no night. 



Then on a stately Oak I cast mine Eye, 
Whose ruffling top the Clouds seem'd to aspire; 
How long since thou wast in thine Infancy? 
Thy strength, and stature, more thy years admire, 
Hath hundred vidnters past since thou wast born? 
Or thousand since thou brakest thy shell of horn, 
If so, all these as nought. Eternity doth scorn. 



Then higher on the glistering Sun I gaz'd, 
Whose beams was shaded by the leavie Tree, 
The more I look'd, the more I grew amaz'd, 



ANNE BRADSTREET 1 55 

And softly said, what glory's like to thee? 

Soul of this world, this Universes Eye, 

No wonder, some made thee a Deity: 

Had I not better known, (alas) the same had I. 



Thou as a Bridegroom from thy Chamber rushes, 

And as a strong man, joyes to run a race. 

The morn doth usher thee, with smiles & blushes, 

The Earth reflects her glances in thy face. 

Birds, insects. Animals with Vegative, 

Thy heart from death and dulness doth revive: 

And in the darksome womb of fruitful nature dive. 



Thy swift Annual, and diurnal Course, 

Thy daily streight, and yearly oblique path, 

Thy pleasing fervor, and thy scorching force, 

All mortals here the feeling knowledg hath. 

Thy presence makes it day, thy absence night, 

Quaternal Seasons caused by thy might: 

Hail Creature, full of sweetness, beauty & delight. 

7 

Art thou so full of glory, that no Eye 

Hath strength, thy shining Rayes once to behold? 

And is thy splendid Throne erect so high ? 

As to approach it, can no earthly mould. 

How full of glory then must thy Creator be? 

Who gave this bright light luster unto thee: 

Admir'd, ador'd for ever, be that Majesty. 



Silent alone, where none or saw, or heard. 
In pathless paths I lead my wandring feet, 
My humble Eyes to lofty Skyes I rear'd 



156 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

To sing some Song, my mazed Muse thought meet. 
My great Creator I would magnifie, 
That nature had, thus decked Uberally: 
But Ah, and Ah, again, my imbecility! 



I heard the merry grashopper then sing. 

The black clad Cricket, bear a second part, 

They kept one tune, and plaid on the same string, 

Seeming to glory in their Httle Art. 

Shall Creatures abject, thus their voices raise? 

And in their kind resound their makers praise: 

Whilst I as mute, can warble forth no higher layes. 

10 

When present times look back to Ages past, 

And men in being fancy those are dead, 

It makes things gone perpetually to last. 

And calls back moneths and years that long since fled 

It makes a man more aged in conceit. 

Then was Methuselah, or's grand-sire great: 

While of their persons & their acts his mind doth treat. 

II 

Sometimes in Eden fair, he seems to be. 
Sees glorious Adam there made Lord of all, 
Fancyes the Apple, dangle on the Tree, 
That turn'd his Sovereign to a naked thral. 
Who like a miscreant's driven from that place, 
To get his bread with pain, and sweat of face: 
A penalty impos'd on his backsliding Race. 

12 

Here sits our Grandame in retired place, 
And in her lap, her bloody Cain new born. 
The weeping Imp oft looks her in the face, 



ANNE BRADSTREET 1 57 

Bewails his unknown hap, and fate forlorn; 
His Mother sighs, to think of Paradise, 
And how she lost her bliss, to be more wise, 
Believing him that was, and is, Father of lyes. 

13 

Here Cain and Ahel come to sacrifice, 

Fruits of the Earth, and Fatlings each do bring, 

On Abels gift the fire descends from Skies, 

But no such sign on false Cain's ofifering; 

With sullen hateful looks he goes his wayes. 

Hath thousand thoughts to end his brothers dayes. 

Upon whose blood his future good he hopes to raise. 

14 

There Abel keeps his sheep, no ill he thinks, 

His brother comes, then acts his fratricide, 

The Virgin Earth, of blood her first draught drinks 

But since that time she often hath been cloy'd; 

The wretch with gastly face and dreadful mind. 

Thinks each he sees will serve him in his kind. 

Though none on Earth but kindred near then could he find. 

15 

Who fancyes not his looks now at the Barr, 

His face Uke death, his heart with horror fraught. 

Nor Male-factor ever felt like warr. 

When deep dispair, with wish of life hath fought, 

Branded with guilt, and crusht with treble woes, 

A Vagabond to Land of Nod he goes. 

A City builds, that wals might him secure from foes. 

16 

Who thinks not oft upon the Fathers ages. 
Their long descent, how nephews sons they saw. 
The starry observations of those Sages, 



158 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

And how their precepts to their sons were law, 

How Adam sigh'd to see his Progeny, 

Cloath'd all in his black sinfuU Livery, 

Who neither guilt, nor yet the punishment could fly. 

17 

Our Life compare we with their length of dayes 

Who to the tenth of theirs doth now arrive? 

And though thus short, we shorten many wayes, 

Living so little while we are alive; 

In eating, drinking, sleeping, vain delight 

So unawares comes on perpetual night, 

And puts all pleasures vain unto eternal flight. 

18 

When I behold the heavens as in their prime, 

And then the earth (though old) stil clad in green, 

The stones and trees, insensible to time. 

Nor age nor wrinkle on their front are seen ; 

If winter come, and greeness then do fade, 

A Spring returns, and they more youthfull made ; 

But Man grows old, lies down, remains where once he's laid. 

19 

By birth more noble then those creatures all. 

Yet seems by nature and by custome curs'd. 

No sooner born, but grief and care makes fall 

That state obliterate he had at first: 

Nor youth, nor strength, nor wisdom spring again 

Nor habitations long their names retain, 

But in oblivion to the final day remain. 



Shall I then praise the heavens, the trees, the earth 
Because their beauty and their strength last longer 
Shall I wish there, or never to had birth. 



ANNE BRAD STREET 1 59 

Because they're bigger, & their bodyes stronger? 
Nay, they shall darken, perish, fade and dye. 
And when unmade, so ever shall they lye, 
But man was made for endless immortality. 



Under the cooling shadow of a stately Elm 

Close sate I by a goodly Rivers side. 

Where gliding streams the Rocks did overwhelm; 

A lonely place, with pleasures dignifi'd. 

I once that lov'd the shady woods so well. 

Now thought the rivers did the trees excel. 

And if the sun would ever shine, there would I dwell. 



While on the stealing stream I fixt mine eye. 
Which to the long'd for Ocean held it s course, 
I markt, nor crooks, nor rubs that there did lye 
Could hinder ought, but still augment its force: 
O happy Flood, quoth I, that holds thy race 
Till thou arrive at thy beloved place. 
Nor is it rocks or shoals that can obstruct thy pace 

23 

Nor is't enough, that thou alone may'st slide, 
But hundred brooks in thy cleer waves do meet, 
So hand in hand along with thee they glide 
To Thetis house, where all imbrace and greet: 
Thou Emblem true, of what I count the best, 
O could I lead my Rivolets to rest. 
So may we press to that vast mansion, ever blest. 

24 

Ye Fish which in this liquid Region 'bide. 
That for each season, have your habitation, 
Now salt, now fresh where you think best to glide 



l6o EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

To unknown coasts to give a visitation, 
In Lakes and ponds, you leave your numerous fry, 
So nature taught, and yet you know not why, 
You watry folk that know not your felicity, 

25 

Look how the wantons frisk to tast the air, 

Then to the colder bottome streight they dive, 

Eftsoon to Neptun's glassie Hall repair 

To see what trade they great ones there do drive,' 

Who forrage o're the spacious sea-green field, 

And take the trembling prey before it yield. 

Whose armour is their scales, their spreading fins their shield. 

26 

While musing thus with contemplation fed, 

And thousand fancies buzzing in my brain, 

The sweet-tongu'd Philomel percht ore my head, 

And chanted forth a most melodious strain 

Which rapt me so with wonder and delight, 

I judg'd my hearing better then my sight, 

And wisht me wings with her a while to take my flight. 

27 

O merry Bird (said I) that fears no snares. 

That neither toyles nor hoards up in thy barn, 

Feels no sad thoughts, nor cruciating cares 

To gain more good, or shun what might thee harm 

Thy cloaths ne're wear, thy meat is every where. 

Thy bed a bough, thy drink the water cleer. 

Reminds not what is past, nor whats to come dost fear. 

28 

The dawning morn with songs thou dost prevent, 
Sets hundred notes unto thy feathered crew, 
So each one tunes his pretty instrument, 



ANNE BRADSTREET l6l 

And warbling out the old, begin anew, 

And thus they pass their youth in summer season, 

Then follow thee into a better Region, 

Where winter's never felt by that sweet airy legion 

29 

Man at the best a creature frail and vain, 

In knowledg ignorant, in strength but weak, 

Subject to sorrows, losses, sickness, pain. 

Each storm his state, his mind, his body break, 

From some of these he never finds cessation, 

But day or night, within, without, vexation. 

Troubles from foes, from friends, from dearest, near'st Relation 

And yet this sinfull creature, frail and vain, 

This lump of wretchedness, of sin and sorrow, 

This weather-beaten vessel wrackt with pain, 

Joyes not in hope of an eternal morrow; 

Nor all his losses, crosses, and vexation. 

In weight, in frequency and long duration 

Can make him deeply groan for that divine Translation. 

31 

The Mariner that on smooth waves doth glide. 
Sings merrily, and steers his Barque with ease, 
As if he had command of wind and tide. 
And now become great Master of the seas; 
But suddenly a storm spoiles all the sport. 
And makes him long for a more quiet port. 
Which 'gainst all adverse winds may serve for fort. 

32 

So he that saileth in this world of pleasure, 
Feeding on sweets, that never bit of th' sowre, 
That's full of friends, of honour and of treasure. 



l62 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

Fond fool, he takes this earth ev'n for heav'ns bower. 
But sad affliction conies & makes him see 
Here's neither honour, wealth, nor safety; 
Only above is found all with security. 

33 

O Time the fatal wrack of mortal things, 

That draws oblivions curtains over kings. 

Their sumptuous monuments, men know them not, 

Their names without a Record are forgot. 

Their parts, their ports, their pomp's all laid in th'dust 

Nor wit nor gold, nor buildings scape times rust; 

But he whose name is graved in the white stone ^ 

Shall last and shine when all of these are gone. 

TO MY DEAR AND LOVING HUSBAND 

If ever two were one, then surely we. 

If ever man were lov'd by wife, then thee; 

If ever wife was happy in a man. 

Compare with me ye women if you can. 

I prize thy love more then whole Mines of gold, 

Or all the riches that the East doth hold. 

My love is such that Rivers cannot quench. 

Nor ought but love from thee, give recompence. 

Thy love is such I can no way repay. 

The heavens reward thee manifold I pray. 

Then while we live, in love lets so perse ver. 

That when we live no more, we may live ever. 

LONGING FOR HEAVEN 

As weary pilgrim, now at rest. 

Hugs with delight his silent nest i' 

His wasted limbes, now lye full soft ^| 

That myrie steps, have troden oft !■' 

Blesses himself, to think upon ,'. 

his dangers past, and travailes done ■. 

• Rev. ii. 17. '•' 



ANNE BRADSTREET 163 

The burning sun no more shall heat 

Nor stormy raines, on him shall beat. 
The bryars and thornes no more shall scratch 

nor hungry wolves at him shall catch 
He erring pathes no more shall tread 

nor wild fruits eate, in stead of bread, 
for waters cold he doth not long 

for thirst no more shall parch his tongue 
No rugged stones his feet shall gaule 

nor stumps nor rocks cause him to fall 
All cares and feares, he bids farwell 

and meanes in safity now to dwell. 
A pilgrim I, on earth, perplext 

with sinns with cares and sorrows vext 
By age and paines brought to decay 

and my Clay house mouldring away 
Oh how I long to be at rest 

and soare on high among the blest. 
This body shall in silence sleep 

Mine eyes no more shall ever weep 
No fainting fits shall me assaile 

nor grinding paines my body fraile 
With cares and feares ne'r cumbred be 

Nor losses know, nor sorrowes see 
What tho my flesh shall there consume 

it is the bed Christ did perfume 
And when a few yeares shall be gone 

this mortall shall be cloth'd upon 
A Corrupt Carcasse downe it lyes 

a glorious body it shall rise 
In weaknes and dishonour sowne • 

in power 'tis rais'd by Christ alone 
Then soule and body shall unite 

and of their maker have the sight 
Such lasting joyes shall there behold 

as eare ne'r heard nor tongue e'er told 
Lord make me ready for that day 

then Come deare bridgrome Come away. 
Aug: 31, 69. 



164 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

MEDITATIONS, DIVINE AND MORALL 



There is no object that we see; no action that we doe; no 
good that we in joy; no evill that we feele, or fear, but we may 
make some spirituall advantage of all: and he that makes such 
improvement is wise, as well as pious. 

n 

Many can speak well, but few can do well. We are better 
scholars in the Theory then the practique part, but he is a true 
Christian that is a proficient in both. 

in 

Youth is the time of getting, middle age of improving, and old 
age of spending; a negligent youth is usually attended by an 
ignorant middle age, and both by an empty old age. He that 
hath nothing to feed on but vanity and lyes must needs lye down 
in the Bed of sorrow. 

IV 

A ship that beares much saile, and little or no ballast, is easily 
overset; and that man, whose head hath great abilities, and his 
heart little or no grace, is in danger of foundering. 



It is reported of the peakcock that, prideing himself in his gay 
feathers, he ruffles them up; but, spying his black feet, he soon 
lets fall his plumes, so he that glories in his gifts and adornings, 
should look upon his Corruptions, and that will damp his high 
thoughts. 

VI 

The finest bread hath the least bran; the purest hony, the 
least wax; and the sincerest christian, the least self-love. 



.M. 



MICHAEL WIGGLESWORTH 

[Michael Wigglesworth, the most popular versifier of early New England 
Puritanism, was born in England, but came to America with his parents in 
1638, at the age of seven. He was graduated from Harvard in 1651, and 
was for a time tutor in that institution. For nearly half a century he was 
pastor of the church at Maiden, Mass., though for long periods of time he 
was unable to preach on account of ill health. During these periods his 
avocations seem to have been medicine and versifying. He became a skilful 
physician, and some of his poems show his familiarity with medical phrase- 
ology. The poem which made him famous was "The Day of Doom, or a 
Poetical Description of the Great and Last Judgment." This was published 
in 1662, and has been many times reprinted in both England and .America. 
It consists of two hundred and twenty-four eight-line stanzas of jigging octo- 
syllabics, and describes in detailed and graphic manner the events of the 
Judgment Day. In the part of the poem which the author's contemporaries 
probably found most edifying, different classes of sinners offer pleas for mercy, 
and are in turn answered by the Judge. The popularity of the poem was 
doubtless due in part to the vivid descriptions, which must have been espe- 
cially striking to readers who knew little poetry except that which presented 
abstract moralizing; and in part to the fact that the answers to different 
sinners expounded in easily remembered jingles many of the chief doctrines 
of Calvinism. At all events "The Day of Doom" was long considered a 
religious classic. It was almost universally read, and innumerable children 
were required to learn it with their catechisms. Of late years the want of 
dignity and fitness in its form, together with the harshness of the pictures 
that it presents, have combined to make it as notorious as it was once famous. 
Michael Wigglesworth also wrote a few other poems, including "Meat 
out of the Eater, or Meditations concerning the Necessity, End, and Use- 
fulness of Affliction to God's Children," published In 1669, and "God's 
Controversy with New England, written in the Time of the Great Drought, 
anno 1662, by a Lover of New England's Prosperity," first printed in the 
Proceedings of the Massachusetts Historical Society, for 1871. 

As no copy of the "Day of Doom" published in Wigglesworth's lifetime 
is available, the selections that follow are taken from the edition prepared 
by William Henry Burr in 1867. This is based on the edition of 1715, com- 
pared with the London edition of 1673. The spelling and, to some extent, 
the punctuation have been modernized. The closing stanzas of "God's 
Controversy with New England" are from the Proceedings of the Massa- 
chusetts Historical Society.] 

i6s 



l66 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

THE CALL TO JUDGMENT 

[From "The Day of Doom"] 



No heart so bold, but now grows cold, ^^^ g . j-_ 

and almost dead with fear; 
No eye so dry but now can cry, 

and pour out many a tear. 
Earth's Potentates and pow'rful States, 

Captains and Men of Might, 
Are quite abasht, their courage dasht, 

at this most dreadful sight. 

XI 

Mean men lament, great men do rent Mat. 24 : 30. 

their Robes and tear their hair; 
They do not spare their flesh to tear 

through horrible despair. 
All kindreds wail; all hearts do fail; 

Horror the World doth fill 
With weeping eyes and loud out-cries, 

yet knows not how to kill. 

XII 

Some hide themselves in Caves and Delves, Rev.6: 15,16. 

in places under ground: 
Some rashly leap into the Deep 

to 'scape by being drown'd: 
Some to the Rocks (O senseless blocks !) 

And woody Mountains run. 
That there they might this fearful sight, 

and dreaded Presence shun. 



XIII 

In vain do they to Mountains say, 
"Fall on us and us hide 



MICHAEL WIGGLESWORTH 167 

From Judge's ire, more hot than Fire, 

for who may it abide ? " 
No hiding place can from his Face 

sinners at all conceal, 
Whose flaming Eye hid things doth spy, 

and darkest things reveal. 

XIV 

The Judge draws nigh, exalted high Mat. 25 : 21. 

upon a lofty Throne, 
Amidst the throng of Angels strong, 

lo, Israel's Holy One ! 
The excellence of whose Presence 

and awful Majesty, 
Amazeth Nature, and every Creature 

doth more than terrify. 

XV 

The Mountains smoke, the Hills are shook, Rev. 6 : 14. 

the Earth is rent and torn. 
As if she should be clear dissolv'd 

or from her center borne. 
The sea doth roar, forsakes the shore, 

and shrinks away for fear; 
The wild beasts flee into the sea, 

so soon as he draws near, 

XVI 

Whose Glory bright, whose wond'rous Might 

whose Power Imperial, 
So far surpass whatever was 

in Realms Terrestrial, 
That tongues of men (nor Angel's pen) 

Cannot the same express; 
And therefore I must pass it by, 

lest speaking should transgress. Thes. 4 : 16. 



l68 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 



XVII 

Before his Throne a Trump is blown, Resurrection 

proclaimine; th' Day of Doom: of the Dead. 

■»-. , ., , . ,< TT 7^ , . John 15:28, 

Forthwith he cnes, Ve Dead arise 20. 

and unto Judgment come." 
No sooner said, but 'tis obey'd; 

Sepulchers open'd are; 
Dead bodies all rise at his call, 

and's mighty Power declare. 

XVIII 

Both Sea and Land at his command, 

their Dead at once surrender; 
The Fire and Air constrained are 

also their dead to tender. 
The mighty Word of this great Lord 

links Body and Soul together, 
Both of the Just and the unjust, 

to part no more forever. 



XIX 

The same translates from Mortal states The living 

To Immortality, ?::S!fo: s6. 

All that survive and be alive, i cor. 15 : 52. 

in th' twinkling of an eye; 
That so they may abide for aye, 

to endless weal or woe: 
Both the Renate and Reprobate 

are made to die no moe. 



XX 

His winged Hosts fly through all coasts. All brought to 

together gathering &!7,%. 

Both good and bad, both Quick and Dead, 
and all to Judgment bring. 



MICHAEL WIGCLESWORTH 

Out of their holes those creeping Moles, 

that hid themselves for fear, 
By force they take, and quickly make 

before the Judge appear. 



169 



XXI 

Thus every one before the Throne 

of Christ the Judge is brought. 
Both righteous and impious, 

that good or ill hath wrought. 
A separation and difif'ring station 

by Christ appointed is 
(To sinners sad) 'twixt good and bad, 

'twixt Heirs of woe and bliss. 



2 Cor. 5 : 10. 
The Sheep 
separated 
from the 
Goats. 
Mat. 25 : 32. 



THE HEATHEN AND THE INFANTS PLEAD 

[From " The Day of Doom "] 

Then were brought near with trembling fear, 

a number numberless, 
Of Blind Heathen, and brutish men 

that did God's Law transgress; 



CLVII 

Whose wicked ways Christ open lays, 

and makes their sins appear. 
They making pleas their case to ease, 

if not themselves to clear. 
"Thy Written Word," say they, "good Lord, 

we never did enjoy; 
We ne'er refus'd, nor it abus'd; 

Oh, do not us destroy!" 



Heathen men 
plead want of 
the Written 
Word. 



CLVIII 



'You ne'er abus'd, nor yet refus'd 
my Written Word, you plead; 



170 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

That's true," quoth he, "therefore shall ye 

the less be punished. j^^^ 11:12. 

You shall not smart for any part Luke 12 : 48. 

of other men's ofifense. 
But for your own transgressi-on 

receive due recompense." 

CLIX 

"But we were blind," say they, "in mind; 

too dim was Nature's Light, 
Our only guide, as hath been tried, 

to bring us to the sight i Cor. i : 21 

Of our estate degenerate, ■^?lu®?u^^ 

and curs d by Adam s Pall; of Nature. 

How we were born and lay forlorn 

in bondage and in thrall. 

CLX 

"We did not know a Christ till now, 

nor how fall'n men be saved, 
Else would we not, right well we wot, 

have so ourselves behaved. 
We should have mourn'd, we should have turn'd 

from sin at thy Reproof, 
And been more wise through thy advice, 

for our own soul's behoof. Mat. 11 : 22. 

CLXI 

"But Nature's light shin'd not so bright, 

to teach us the right way: 
We might have lov'd it and well improv'd it, 

and yet have gone astray." 
The Judge most High makes this Reply : They are 

"You ignorance pretend, answered. 

Dimness of sight, and want of light, 

your course Heav'nward to bend. 



MICHAEL WIGGLESWORTH 171 



CLXII 

"How came your mind to be so blind? 

I once you knowledge gave, 
Clearness of sight and judgment right: Gen. i : 27. 

who did the same deprave ? E^cl. 7 : 29. 

If to your cost you have it lost, °^' ^^ ' ^' 

and quite defac'd the same. 
Your own desert hath caus'd the smart; 

you ought not me to blame. 

CLxni 

"Yourselves into a pit of woe, 

your own transgression led; Mat. n : 25, 

If I to none my Grace had shown, compared 

1,11.. 1 -> with 20 : 15. 

who had been injured? 

If to a few, and not to you, 

I shew'd a way of life. 
My Grace so free, you clearly see 

gives you no ground of strife. 

CLXIV 

" 'Tis vain to tell, you wot full well, 

if you in time had known 
Your misery and remedy, 

your actions had it shown: 
You, sinful Crew, have not been true Rom. i : 20, 

unto the Light of Nature, "» 22. 

Nor done the good you understood, 

nor owned your Creator. 

CLXV 

"He that the Light, because 'tis slight, 

hath us^d to despise. 
Would not the Light shining more bright, ic^ndj^^ 

be likely for to prize. Mat. 12 : 41. 



172 



EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 



If you had lov'd, and well improv'd 
your knowledge and dim sight, 

Herein your pain had not been vain, 
your plagues had been more light." 



CLXVI 

Then to the Bar all they drew near 

Who died in infancy, 
And never had or good or bad 

effected pers'nally; 
But from the womb unto the tomb 

were straightway carried, 
(Or at the least ere they transgress'd) 

Who thus began to plead: 



Reprobate In- 
fants plead for 
themselves. 
Rev. 20 : 1 2, 
15, compared 
with Rom. 5 : 
12, 14, and 
9: II, 13. 
Ezek. 18 : 2. 



CLXVn 

"If for our own transgressi-on, 

or disobedience, 
We here did stand at thy left hand, 

just were the Recompense; 
But Adam's guilt our souls hath spilt, 

his fault is charg'd upon us; 
And that alone hath overthrown 

and utterly undone us. 



CLXVIII 

"Not we, but he ate of the Tree, 

Whose fruit was interdicted; 
Yet on us all of his sad Fall 

the punishment's inflicted. 
How could we sin that had not been, 

or how is his sin our, 
Without consent, which to prevent 

we never had the pow'r? 



MICHAEL WIGGLESWORTH 173 



CLXIX 

"O great Creator why was our Nature 

depraved and forlorn ? 
Why so defil'd, and made so vil'd, 

whilst we were yet unborn? 
If it be just, and needs we must 

transgressors reckon 'd be, 
Thy Mercy, Lord, to us afford, Psal. 51 : 5. 

which sinners hath set free. 

CLXX 

"Behold we see Adam set free, 

and sav'd from his trespass, 
Whose sinful Fall hath split us all, 

and brought us to this pass. 
Canst thou deny us once to try, 

or Grace to us to tender. 
When he finds grace before thy face, 

who was the chief offender ?" 

CLXXI 



Then answered the Judge most dread: 

"God doth such doom forbid, Their argu- 

That men should die eternally ^^"^s taken off 

for what they never did. Rom. 5 : 12, 19 

But what you call old Adam's Fall, 

and only his Trespass, 
You call amiss to call it his, 

both his and yours it was. 

CLxxn 

"He was design'd of all Mankind 

to be a public Head; i Cor. 15 : 48, 

A common Root, whence all should shoot, 49- 

and stood in all their stead. 



174 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

He stood and fell, did ill or well, 

not for himself alone, 
But for you all, who now his Fall 

and trespass would disown. 

cLxxin 

"If he had stood, then all his brood 

had been established 
In God's true love never to move, 

nor once awry to tread; 
Then all his Race my Father's Grace 

should have enjoy'd for ever. 
And vncked Sprites by subtile sleights 

could them have harmed never. 



CLXXIV 

"Would you have griev'd to have receiv'd 

through Adam so much good, 
As had been your for evermore, 

if he at first had stood? 
Would you have said, 'We ne'er obey'd 

nor did thy laws regard; 
It ill befits with benefits, 

us, Lord, to so reward?' 

CLXXV 

"Since then to share in his welfare, 

you could have been content, 
You may with reason share in his treason, 

and in the punishment. Rom. 5 : 12. 

Hence you were born in state forlorn, ^^^^- S^ = 5- 

Gen. 5 : 3. 
with Natures so depraved; 

Death was your due because that you 

had thus yourselves behaved. 



MICHAEL WIGGLESWORTH 175 



CLXXVI 

"You think 'If we had been as he, 

whom God did so betrust, 
We to our cost would ne'er have lost 

all for a paltry lust.' 
Had you been made in Adam's stead, Mat. 23 : 30, 31. 

you would like things have wrought, 
And so into the self-same woe, 

yourselves and yours have brought. 

CLxxvn 

"I may deny you once to try, 

or Grace to you to tender, 
Though he finds Grace before my face Rom. 9 : 15, 18. 

who was the chief offender ; V^J'T. ??" 

Else should my Grace cease to be Grace, 

for it would not be free. 
If to release whom I should please 

I have no liberty. 



Rom. 5 : 15. 



CLXxvin 

"If upon one what's due to none 

I frankly shall bestow. 
And on the rest shall not think best 

compassion's skirt to throw. 
Whom injure I? will you envy 

and grudge at others' weal? 
Or me accuse, who do refuse 

yourselves to help and heal? 

CLXXIX 

"Am I alone of what's my own, 

no Master or no Lord? 
And if I am, how can you claim Mat. 20 : 15. 

what I to some afford? 



176 



EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 



Will you demand Grace at my hand, 
and challenge what is mine? 

Will you teach me whom to set free, 
and thus my Grace confine? 



CLXXX 

"You sinners are, and such a share 

as sinners, may expect; 
Such you shall have, for I do save 

none but mine own Elect. 
Yet to compare your sin with their 

who Uv'd a longer time, 
I do confess yours is much less, 

though every sin's a crime. 



Psal. 58 : 8. 
Rom. 6 : 23. 
Gal. 3 : 10. 
Rom. 8 : 29, 
30, and II : 7. 
Rev. 21 : 27. 
Luke 12 : 14, 
Mat. II : 22. 



CLXXXI 

"A crime it is, therefore in bliss 

you may not hope to dwell; 
But unto you I shall allow 

the easiest room in Hell." 
The glorious King thus answering, 

they cease, and plead no longer; 
Their Consciences must needs confess 

his Reasons are the stronger. 



The wicked 
all convinced 
and put to si- 
lence. 

Rom. 3 : 19. 
Mat. 2a : 12. 



CLXXXn 

Thus all men's pleas the Judge with ease 

doth answer and confute, 
Until that all, both great and small, 

are silenced and mute. 
Vain hopes are cropt, all mouths are stopt, 

sinners have naught to say, 
But that 'tis just and equal most 

they should be damn'd for aye. 



Behold the 
formidable 
estate of all 
the ungodly as 
they stand 
hopeless and 
helpless be- 
fore an impar- 
tial Judge ex- 
pecting their 
final Sentence. 
Rev. 6 : 16, 17. 



MICHAEL WIGGLESWORTH 177 

EPILOGUE TO "GOD'S CONTROVERSY WITH NEW 
ENGLAND " 

Ah dear New England ! dearest land to me ; 

Which unto God hast hitherto been dear, 
And mayst be still more dear than formerlie, 

If to his voice thou wilt incline thine ear. 

Consider wel & wisely what the rod, 

Wherewith thou art from yeer to yeer chastized, 

Instructeth thee. Repent, & turn to God, 
Who wil not have his nurture be despized. 

Thou still hast in thee many praying saints. 
Of great account, and precious with the Lord, 

Who dayly powre out unto him their plaints, 
And strive to please him both in deed & word. 

Cheer on, sweet souls, my heart is wdth you all. 
And shall be with you, maugre Sathan's might: 

And whereso'ere this body be a Thrall, 
Still in New-England shall be my delight. 



PETER FOLGER 

[The greater part of the New England writings that have been preserved 
from the seventeenth century are the work of ministers and other members 
of the theological and intellectual oligarchy that dominated the government. 
Many of the contemporaries of these authors were, however, practical, hard- 
headed Yankees who were inclined to criticise the opinions and the acts of 
their superiors. These men were not in the habit of writing much, and they 
doubtless refrained, through fear for their personal safety, from expressing 
their most radical ideas openly. The few of their rude utterances that have 
been preserved have, therefore, an especial interest. One of these works is 
"A Looking Glass for the Times, or The former Spirit of New-England 
revived in this generation," a doggerel poem of some four hundred lines, 
written by Peter Folger in 1675. Folger was one of the first settlers of Nan- 
tucket, a land-surveyor, who, if he had written nothing, would still have been 
remembered as the grandfather of Benjamin Franklin. At the outbreak 
of the Indian troubles he took the ground that the afiflictions of the colonists 
were a divine punishment for their religious intolerance, and he criticised 
the interference of the ministers with affairs of state. A mistaken reading of 
a passage in Franklin's "Autobiography" once led to the belief that the 
verses were published in the year that they were written; but it now seems 
certain that Folger had the discretion common to men of his class, and that 
he gave his work no publicity that was likely to get him into trouble. It is 
probable that if Cotton Mather had seen the poem, he would not have used 
some complimentary terms with which he refers to the author in the " Mag- 
nalia." The first known edition of the verses, now very rare, was published 
in 1763. The brief selection here given is from the reprint of this edition 
made by Sidney S. Rider in the Rhode Island Historical Tracts.] 

A WORD CONCERNING MAGISTRATES AND MIN- 
ISTERS 

[From "A Looking Glass for the Times"] 

I would not have you for to thinlc, 

tho' I have wrote so much, 
That I hereby do throw a Stone 

at Magistrates as such. 
The Rulers in the Country I 

do own them in the Lord; 
And such as are for Government, 

with them I do accord. 
178 



PETER FOLGER I 79 

But that which I intend hereby, 

is that they would keep bound, 
And meddle not with God's Worship, 

for which they have no ground. 
And I am not alone herein, 

there's many hundreds more 
That have for many Year's ago 

spake much upon that Score, 
Indeed I really believe 

it's not your Business 
To meddle with the Church of Christ, 

in Matters more or less. 
There's work enough to do besides, 

to judge in mine and thine, 
To succour Poor and Fatherless, 

that is the Work in fine. 
And I do think that now you find 

enough of that to do; 
Much more at such a Time as this 

as there is War also. 
Indeed I count it very low 

for People in these Days, 
To ask the Rulers for their leave 

to serve God in his Ways. 
I count it worse in Magistrates 

to use the Iron Sword, 
To do that Work which Christ alone 

will do by his own Word. 
The Church may tiow go stay at home, 

there's nothing for to do; 
Their Work is all cut out by Law, 

and almost made up too. 
Now Reader, least you should mistake, 

in what I said before 
Concerning Minister's, I think 

to write a few Words more, 
I would not have you for to think 

that I am such a Fool, 



l8o EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

To write against Learning, as such, 

or to cry down a School. 
But 'tis that Popish College way, 

that I intend hereby. 
Where Men are mew'd up in a Cage, 

fit for all Villany. 
But I shall leave this puddle Stuff 

to neighbours at the Door, 
That can speak more unto such things, 

upon a knowing Score. 
And now these Men though ne'er so bad, 

when they have learn'd their Trade, 
They must come in and bear a Part, 

whatever Laws are made. 
I can't but wonder for to see 

our Magistrates and Wise, 
That they sit still, and suffer them, 

to ride on them, not rise, 
And stir them up to do that Work 

that Scripture Rule there wants, 
To persecute and persecute 

Those that they judge are Saints. 
There's one thing more that I believe 

is worse than all the rest. 
They vilify the Spirit of God, 

and count School Learning Best, 
If that a Boy hath learn'd his Trade, 

and can the Spirit disgrace, 
Then he is lifted up on high, 

and needs must have a Place, 
But I shall leave this dirty Stuff, 

and give but here a hint, 
Because that you have Cradock's Book, 

and may see more in Print. 
There are some few, it may be, that 

are clear of this same Trade; 
And of those Men, I only say, 

these Verses are not made. 



THE BURWELL PAPERS 

[The so-called "Burwell Papers" are contained in an incomplete and 
imperfect manuscript which, early in the last century, was in the possession 
of the Burwell family in Virginia. It treats of "Bacon's Rebellion," the 
civil disturbance that agitated the Virginia colony in 1676. The name of 
the author and the exact time of composition are matters of conjecture; but 
it was evidently written by a partisan of the royal governor, very soon after 
the occurrence of the events that it narrates. It offers an interesting contrast 
to the writings of the earliest settlers in Virginia, and shows how Southern 
writers followed the literary fashions of England. It illustrates the con- 
ceits, the prolixity, and the striving after effect that characterize the most 
artificial Restoration prose. Two poems on Bacon's death, at least one of 
which is by some other person than the author of the main narrative, are 
interesting specimens of the verse of the period. 

The Burwell Papers have been twice printed by the Massachusetts His- 
torical Society — first, from an inaccurate copy, in the Collections, Series 
II, Vol. I; and again in the Proceedings for 1866-1867. The selections 
that follow are from the latter reprint.] 

THE SIEGE OF JAMESTOWN 

The Towne being thus forsaken, by the Baconians, his Honour 
enters the same the next day, about noone; where after he had 
rendered thanks unto God for his safe arivall (which he forgot not 
to perform upon his knees, at his first footeing the shore) hee 
applyes himselfe not onely to secure what he had got possesion 
of, but to increace and inlarge the same to his best advantage. 
And knowing that the people of ould useally painted the God of 
war with a belly to be fed, as well as with hands to fight, he began 
to cast about for the bringing in of provissions for to feed his 
soulders ; and in the next place for soulders, as well to reinforce 
his strength with in, as to inlarge his quarters abrode : But as the 
saying is, Man may propose, but God will dispose; when that 
his honour thought him selfe so much at liberty, that he might 
have the liberty to go when and where he pleased, his expectations 
became very speedily & in a moment frusterated. 

For Bacon haveing don his buisness against the Indians, or at 
least so much as he was able to do, haveing marched his men with 
a grate deale of toyle & haserd som hundreds of miles, one way 
and another, killing som and takeing others prissoners, and haveing 

181 



l82 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

spent his provissions, draws in his forces with in the verge of 
the English Plantations, from whence he dismiseth the gratest 
part of his Army to gather strength against the next designed 
March, which was no sooner don but he incounters the newes of 
the Governours being arived at town. Of which being informed 
he with a marvellous cellerity (outstriping the swift wings of fame) 
marcheth those few men now with him (which hee had onely re- 
sarved as a gard to his parson) and in a trice blocks up the Gov- 
ernour in Towne, to the generall astonishment of the whoU Coun- 
trey; especially when that Bacons numbers was knowne; which 
at this time did not exseed above a hundred and fifty, and these 
not above two thirds at worke neather. An action of so strange 
an Aspect, that who ever tooke notis of it, could not chuse but 
thinke but that the Accomackians eather intended to receve their 
promised pay, without disart; or other ways to establish such 
signall testimonies of there cowerdize or disaffections, or both, 
that posterity might stand & gaze at there reched stupidety. 

Bacon soone perceved what easey worke he was likely to have, 
in this servis, and so began to set as small an esteeme upon these 
mens curages, as they did upon there owne credits. Hee saw, by 
the Prolog, what sport might be expected in the play, and soe 
began to dispose of his affaires accordingly. Yet not knowing 
but that the paucity of his numbers being once knowne, to those 
in Towne, it might raise there hearts to a degree of curage, have- 
ing so much the ods, and that mani-times number prevales against 
ressalution, he thought it not amiss, since the Lions strength 
was too weake, to strengthen the same with the Foxes Braines: 
and how this was to be efected you shall heare. 

For emediately he despacheth two or three parties of Horss, 
and about so many in each party, for more he could not spare, to 
bring in to the Camp some of the prime Gent: Women, whose 
Husbands were in towne. Where when arived he sends one of 
them to inform her owne, and others Husbands, for what pur- 
poses he had brought them into the camp, namely, to be plac'd in 
the fore frunt of his Men, at such time as those in towne should 
sally forth upon him. 

The poore Gent: Women were mightely astonish'd at this 
project; neather were there Husbands voide of amazements at 



THE BURWELL PAPERS 183 

this subtill invention. If Mr. Fuller thought it strange, that the 
Divells black gard should be enrouled Gods soulders, they made 
it no less wonderfuU, that there innocent and harmless Wives 
should thus be entred a white garde to the Divell. This action 
was a Method, in war, that they were not well aquainted with (no 
not those the best inform'd in millitary affaires) that before they 
could com to pearce their enimies sides, they must be obliged to 
dart there wepons through there wives brest: By which meanes 
though they (in there owne parsons) might escape without wounds; 
yet it might be the lamentable fate of there better halfe to drop by 
gunshott, or other ways be wounded to death. 

Whether it was these Considerations, or som others, I do not 
know, that kep their swords in there scabards: But this is mani- 
fest. That Bacon knit more knotts by his owne head in one day, 
then all the hands in Towne was able to untye in a whoU weeke : 
While these Ladyes white Aprons became of grater force to keepe 
the beseiged from salleing out then his works (a pittifull trench) 
had strength to repell the weakest shot, that should have bin sent 
into his Legure, had he not made use of this invention. 

For it is to be noted that rite in his frunt, where he was to lodge 
his Men, the Governour had planted 3 grate Guns, for to play 
poynt blank upon his Men, as they were at worke, at about 100 or a 
150 paces distance; and then againe, on his right hand, all most 
close aborde the shore, lay the ships, viith ther broade sides, to 
thunder upon him if he should offer to make an onslaute: this 
being the onely place, by land, for him to make his entrey, into the 
Towne: But for your better satisfaction, or rather those who you 
may show this Naritive to, who have never bin upon the place, 
take this short description. 

The place, on which the Towne is built, is a perfict Peninsulla, 
or tract of Land, all most wholly incompast with Water. Have- 
ing on the Sowth side the River (Formerly Powhetan, now called 
James River) 3 miles brode, Incompast on the North, from the 
east point, with a deep Creeke, rangeing in a cemicircle, to the 
west, with in 10 paces of the River; and there, by a smalle Istmos,- 
tacked to the Continent. This Iseland (for so it is denominate) 
hath for Longitud (east and west) nere upo 2 miles, and for Lat- 
titude about halfe so much, beareing in the wholl compass about 



1 84 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

5 miles, litle more or less. It is low-ground, full of Marches and 
Swomps, which makes the Aire, especially in the Sumer, insalu- 
britious & unhelty: It is not at all replenish 'd with springs of 
fresh water, & that which they have in ther Wells, brackish, ill 
sented, penurious, and not gratef uU to the stumack ; which render 
the place improper to indure the commencement of a seige. The 
Towne is built much about the midle of the Sowth line, close upon 
the River, extending east and west, about 3 quarters of a mile ; in 
which is comprehended som 16 or 18 howses, most as is the 
Church, built of Brick, faire and large; and in them about a dozen 
flfamilles (for all the howses are not inhabited) getting there live- 
ings by keepeing of ordnaries, at exstreordnary rates. 

The Governour understanding that the Gent: Women, at the 
Legure, was, by order, drawne out of danger, resalved, if posible, 
to beate Bacon out of his trench ; which he thought might easely 
be performed, now that his Gardian Angles had forsaken his 
Camp. For the efecting of which he sent forth 7 or (as they say) 
800 of his Accomackians, who (like scholars goeing to schoole) 
went out with hevie harts, but returnd hom with light heeles; 
thinkeing it better to turne there backs upon that storme, that 
there brests could not indure to strugle against, for feare of being 
gauled in there sides, or other parts of there bodys, through the 
sharpness of the wether; which (after a terable noyse of thunder 
and lightning out of the Easte) began to blow with a powder (and 
som leade too as big as musquitt boolitts) full in there faces, and 
that with so grate a violence, that som off them was not able to 
stand upon there leggs, which made the rest betake them selves to 
there heeles; as the onely expedient to save there lives; which 
som amongst them had rather to have lost, then to have own'd 
there safty at the price of such dishonourable rates. 

The Governour was exstremly disgusted at the ill management 
of this action, which he exprest in som passionate terms, against 
those who merited the same. But in ernist, who could expect the 
event to be other ways then it was, when at the first notis given, for 
the designed salley to be put in execution, som of the officers 
made such crabed faces at the report of the same, that the Guner 
of Yorke Fort did proffer to purchase, for any that would buy, 
a CoUonells, or a Captains, Commission, for a chunke of a pipe. 



THE BURWELL PAPERS 185 

The next day Bacon orders 3 grate Guns to be brought into 
the Camp, two where of he plants upon his trench. The one he 
sets to worke (playing som calls itt, that takes delight to see 
stately structurs beated downe, and Men blowne up into the aire 
like Shutle Cocks) against the Ships, the other against the enter- 
ance into Towne, for to open a pasage to his intended Storm, 
which now was resalved upon as he said, & which was prevented 
by the Governours forsakeing the place, and shiping himselfe, 
once more to Accomack; takeing along with him all the Towne 
people, and there goods, leaveing all the grate Guns naled up, 
and the howses emty, for Bacon to enter at his pleasure, and which 
he did the next morning before day : Where, contrary to his hopes, 
he met with nothing that might satisfie eather him selfe or soul- 
ders desires, except few Horsses,.two or three sellers of wine, and 
som small quantety of Indian Corne with a grate many Tan'd hides. 

THE DEATH OF BACON AND THE ACCESSION OF 

INGRAM 

Bacon haveing for som time, bin beseiged by sickness, and 
now not able to hould out any longer; all his strength, and pro- 
vissions being spent, surrendred up that Fort he was no longer 
able to keepe, into the hands of that grim and all conquering 
Captaine, Death; after that he had implor'd the assistance of 
the above mentioned Minester, for the well makeing his Artickles 
of Rendition. The onely Religious duty (as they say) he was ob- 
serv'd to perform dureing these Intregues of affaires, in which he 
was so considerable an actor, and soe much consearn'd, that 
rather then he would decline the cause, he be came so deeply in 
gaged in, in the first rise there of, though much urged by argu- 
ments of dehortations, by his nearest Relations and best friends, 
that he subjected him selfe to all those inconvenences that, singly, 
might bring a Man of a more Robust frame to his last hom. 
After he was dead he was bemoned in these following lines (drawne 
by the Man that waited upon his person, as it is said) and who 
attended his Corps to there Buriall place: But where depossited 
till the Generall day, not knowne, onely to those who are ressa- 
lutly silent in that particuler. There was many coppes of Verces 



1 86 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

made after his departure, calculated to the Lattitude of there affec- 
tions who composed them ; as a rellish taken from both appetites 
I have here sent you a cuple. 

Bacons Epitaph, made by his Man. 

Death why soe ere will ! what no other way 
To manifest thy spUeene, but thus to slay 
Our hopes of safety; liberty, our all 
Which, through thy tyrany, with him must fall 
To its late Caoss? Had thy riged force 
Bin delt by retale, and not thus in gross 
Grief e had bin silent: Now wee must complaine 
Since thou, in him, hast more then thousand slane 
Whose lives and safetys did so much depend 
On him there lif, with him there lives must end. 

If't be a sin to thinke Death brib'd can bee 
Wee must be guilty; say twas bribery 
Guided the fatall shaft. Verginias foes 
To whom for secrit crimes, just vengeance owes 
Disarved plagues, dreding their just disart 
Corrupted Death by Parasscellcian art 
Him to destroy; whose well tride curage such 
There heartless harts, nor arms, nor strength could touch. 

Who now must heale those wounds, or stop that blood 
The Heathen made, and drew into a flood? 
Who i'st must pleade our Cause ? nor Trump nor Drum 
Nor Deputations; these alass are dumb. 
And Cannot speake. Our Arms (though nere so strong) 
Will want the aide of his Commanding tongue, 
Which Conquer'd more than Ceaser: He orethrew 
Onely the outward frame; this Could subdue 
The ruged workes of nature. Soules repleate 
With dull Child could, he'd annemate with heate 
Drawne forth of reasons Lymbick. In a word 
Marss and Minerva, both in him Concurd 
For arts, for arms, whose pen and sword alike 
As Caios did, may admireation strike 



THE BURWELL PAPERS 1 87 

In to his foes; while they confess with all 
It was there guilt stil'd him a Criminall. 
Onely this differance doth from truth proceed 
They in the guilt, he in the name must bleed 
While none shall dare his Obseques to sing 
In disarv'd measures; untill time shall bring 
Truth Crown'd with freedom, and from danger free 
To sound his praises to posterity. 

Here let him rest; while wee this truth report 
Hee's gon from hence unto a higher Court 
To pleade his Cause : where he by this doth know 
Whether to Ceaser hee was friend, or foe. 

Upon the Death of G: B. 

Whether to Ceaser he was Friend or Foe? 
Pox take such Ignorance, do you not know? 
Can he be Friend to Ceaser, that shall bring 
The Arms of Hell, to fight against the King? 
(Treason, Rebellion) then what reason have 
Wee for to waite upon him to his Grave, 
There to express our passions ? Wilt not bee 
Worss then his Crimes, to sing his Ellegie 
In well tun'd numbers; where each Ella beares 
(To his Flagitious name) a flood of teares? 
A name that hath more soules with sorow fed, 
Then reched Niobe, single teares ere shed; 
A name that fil'd all hearts, all eares, with paine, 
Untill blest fate proclamed. Death had him slane. 
Then how can it be counted for a sin 
Though Death (nay though my selfe) had bribed bin, 
To guide the fatall shaft? we honour all 
That lends a hand unto a T[r]ators fall. 
What though the well paide Rochit soundly ply 
And box the Pulpitt, in to flatterey; 
Urging his Rhethorick, and straind elloquence, 
T' adorne incoffin'd filth and excrements; 
Though the Defunct (like ours) nere tride 



l88 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

A well intended deed untill he dide ? 
'Twill be nor sin, nor shame, for us, to say 
A two fould Passion checker-workes this day 
Of Joy and Sorow; yet the last doth move 
On feete impotent, wanting strength to prove 
(Nor can the art of Logick yeild releife) 
How Joy should be surmounted, by our greife. 
Yet that wee Grieve it cannot be denide, 
But 'tis because he was, not cause he dide. 
So wep the poore destresed, Ilyum Dames 
Hereing those nam'd, there Citty put in flames, 
And Country ruing'd; If wee thus lament 
It is against our present Joyes consent. 
For if the rule, in Phisick, trew doth prove, 
Remove the cause, th' effects will after move, 
We have outliv'd our sorows; since we see 
The Causes shifting, of our miserey. 

Nor is't a single cause, that's slipt away, 
That made us warble out, a well-a-day. 
The Braines to plot, the hands to execute 
Projected ills, Death Joyntly did nonsute 
At his black Bar. And what no Baile could save 
He hath committed Prissoner to the Grave; 
From whence there's no repreive. Death keep him close 
We have too many Dwells still goe loose. 

Ingrams Proceedings. 

The Lion had no sooner made his exitt, but the Ape (by indubi- 
table right) steps upon the stage. Bacon was no sooner removed 
by the hand of good providence, but another steps in, by the 
wheele of fickle fortune. The Countrey had, for som time, bin 
guided by a company of knaves, now it was to try how it would 
behave it selfe under a foole. Bacon had not long bin dead, 
(though it was a long time be fore som would beleive that he was 
dead) but one Ingram (or Isgrum, which you will) takes up 
Bacons Commission (or ells by the patterne of that cuts him out 
a new one) and as though he had bin his natureall heire, or that 



THE BVRWELL PAPERS 189 

Bacons Commission had bin granted not onely to him selfe, but 
to his Executors, Administraters, and Assignes, he (in the Milli- 
tary Court) takes out a Probit of Bacons will, and proclames him 
selfe his Successer. 

This Ingram, when that he came first into the Countrey, had 
gott upon his Back the title of an Esquire, but how he came by it 
may pussell all the Herolds in England to tinde out, u[n]till he 
informs them of his right name : how ever, by the helpe of this (and 
his fine capering, for it is saide that he could dance well upon a 
rope) he caper'd him selfe in to a fine (though short liv'd) estate : 
by marying, here, with a rich Widow, vallued at som hundreds of 
pounds. 

The first thing that this fine fellow did, after that he was mounted 
upon the back of his Commission, was to Spur, or Switch, those 
who were to pay obedience unto his Authorety, by geting him 
selfe proclaimed Generall of all the forces, now raised, or here 
after to be raised, in Verginia: Which while it was performing at 
the head of the Army, the Milke-sop stoode with his hatt in his 
hand, lookeing as demurely as the grate Turks Mustie, at the 
readeing som holy sentance, extracted forth of the Alchron. The 
Bell-man haveing don, he put on his hat, and his Janessarys threw 
up there Caps; crying out as lowde as they could Bellow, God 
save our new Generall, hopeing, no dout, but he, in imitation 
of the grat Sultaine, at his election, would have inlarged there pay, 
or ells have given them leave to have made Jewes of the best 
Christians in the Countrey: but he being more than halfe a jew 
him self, at present forbad all plundrings, but such as he him selfe 
should be parsonally at. 



MARY ROWLANDSON 

[The early accounts of captivity among the Indians are interesting for the 
pictures they give of pioneer hardships and of the Hfe of the savages; and 
they are important because in early Nevi^ England they were almost the only 
form of writing that gratified the love for tales of adventure. One of the 
most notable of these accounts is that of Mary Rowlandson, wife of the 
pastor at Lancaster, Mass., who suffered an especially trying period of cap- 
tivity in 1676. According to the preface, "This Narrative was penned by 
the Gentlewoman her self, to be to her a memorandum of Gods dealing with 
her." She was persuaded, however, to make it public, and it was printed 
at Cambridge in 1682 with the title "The Soveraignty & Goodness of God 
Together With the Faithfulness of his Promises Displayed; Being a Narra- 
tive of the Captivity and Restauration of Mrs. Mary Rowlandson." The 
narrative went through two American editions and one English edition in 
1682, and has since been many times reprinted. It owes its interest not 
only to the graphic account of fascinating though horrible events, but to the 
unconscious revelation of the author's character. 

No copy of the first edition is known to exist. The selections here given 
follow the rare second edition, Cambridge, 1682, as reprinted in facsimile 
by Henry Stedman Nourse and John Eliot Thayer, Lancaster, 1903. The 
work of the colonial printer was very crude and inaccurate, but the reader 
will ordinarily find no difficulty in making necessary emendations in the text.] 



THE BEGINNING OF THE CAPTIVITY 
[From "The Narrative of the Captivity," etc.] 

On the tenth of February 1675, Came the Indians with great 
numbers upon Lancaster: Their first coming was about Sun- 
rising; hearing the noise of some Guns, we loolced out; several 
Houses were burning, and the Smolce ascending to Heaven. 
There were five persons taken in one house, the Father, and the 
Mother and a suclcing Child they knockt on the head ; the other 
two they took and carried away alive. Their were two others, 
who being out of their Garison upon some occasion, were set upon ; 
one was knockt on the head, the other escaped: Another their 
was who running along was shot and wounded, and fell down ; he 

190 



MARY ROWLANDSON 

begged of them his life, promising them Money (as they i\ 
but they would not hearken to him but knockt him in heavx, ^..^ 
stript him naked, and split open his Bowels. Another seeing 
many of the Indians about his Barn, ventured and went out, but 
was quickly shot down. There were three others belonging to 
the same Garison who were killed ; the Indians getting up upon 
the roof of the Barn, had advantage to shoot down upon them 
over their Fortification. Thus these murtherous wretches went 
on, burning, and destroying before them, 

At length they came and beset our own house, and quickly it 
was the dolefullest day that ever mine eyes saw. The House 
stood upon the edg of a hill ; some of the Indians got behind the 
hill, others into the Barn, and others behind any thing that could 
shelter them; from all which places they shot against the House, 
so that the Bullets seemed to fly like hail; and quickly they 
wounded one man among us, then another, and then a third. 
About two hours (according to my observation, in that amazing 
time) they had been about the house before they prevailed to fire 
it (which they did with Flax and Hemp, which they brought out 
of the Barn, and there being no defence about the House, only 
two Flankers at two opposite corners and one of them not finished) 
they fired it once and one ventured out and quenched it, but they 
quickly fired it again, and that took Now is the dreadfull hour 
come, that I have often heard of (in time of War, as it was the 
case of others) but now mine eyes see it. Some in our house were 
fighting for their lives, others wallowing in their blood, the House 
on fire over our heads, and the bloody Heathen ready to knock 
us on the head, if we stired out. Now might we hear Mothers & 
Children crying out for themselves, and one another. Lord, what 
shall we do ? Then I took my Children (and one of my sisters, 
hers) to go forth and leave the house : but as soon as we came to 
the dore and appeared, the Indians shot so thick that the bulletts 
rattled against the House, as if one had taken an handfull of 
stones and threw them, so that we were fain to give back. We 
had six stout Dogs belonging to our Garrison, but none of them 
would stir, though another time, if any Indian had come to the 
door, they were ready to fly upon him and tear him down. The 
Lord hereby would make us the more to acknowledge his hand, and 



192 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

to see that our help is always in him. But out we must go, the fire 
increasing, and coming along behind us, roaring, and the Indians 
gaping before us with their Guns, Spears and Hatchets to devour 
us. No sooner were we out of the House, but my Brother in Law 
(being before wounded, in defending the house, in or near the 
throat) fell down dead, whereat the Indians scornfully shouted, 
and hallowed, and were presently upon him, stripping off his 
cloaths, the buUetts flying thick, one went through my side, and 
the same (as would seem) through the bowels and hand of my 
dear Child in my arms. One of my elder Sisters Children, named 
William, had then his Leg broken, which the Indians perceiving, 
they knockt him on head. Thus were we butchered by those 
merciless Heathen, standing amazed, with the blood running 
down to our heels. My eldest Sister being yet in the House, and 
seeing those wofuU sights, the Infidels haling Mothers one way, 
and Children another, and some wallowing in their blood: and 
her elder Son telling her that her Son William was dead, and my 
self was wounded, she said. And, Lord, let me dy with them; which 
was no sooner said, but she was struck with a Bullet, and fell 
down dead over the threshold. I hope she is reaping the fruit of 
her good labours, being faithfull to the service of God in her place. 
In her younger years she lay under much trouble upon spiritual 
accounts, till it pleased God to make that precious Scripture take 
hold of her heart, 2 Cor. 12. 9. And he said unto me my Grace is 
sufficient for thee. More then twenty years after I have heard her 
tell how sweet and comfortable that place was to her. But to 
return : The Indians laid hold of me, pulling me one way, and the 
Children another, and said, Come go along with us; I told them 
they would kill me : they answered, If I were willing to go along 
with them they would not hurt me. 

Oh the dolefull sight that now was to behold at this House ! 
Come, behold the works of the Lord, what dissolutions he has made 
in the Earth. Of thirty seven persons who were in this one 
House, none escaped either present death, or a bitter captivity, 
save only one, who might say as he. Job. i. 15. And I only am 
escaped alone to tell the News. There were twelve killed, some 
shot, some stab'd with their Spears, some knock'd down with 
their Hatchets, When we are in prosperity. Oh the little that we 



MARY ROWLANDSO.y I93 

think of such dreadfull sights, and to see our dear Friends, and 
Relations ly bleeding out their heart-blood upon the ground. 
There was one who was chopt into the head with a Hatchet, and 
stript naked, and yet was crawling up and down. It is a solemn 
sight to see so many Christians lying in their blood, some here, 
and some there, like a company of Sheep torn by Wolves. All 
of them stript naked by a company of hell-hounds, roaring, sing- 
ing, ranting and insulting, as if they would have torn our very 
hearts out ; yet the Lord by his Almighty power preserved a num- 
ber of us from death, for there were twenty-four of us taken alive 
and carried Captive. 

/ had often before this said, that if the Indians should come, I 
should chuse rather to he killed by them then taken alive but when it 
came to the tryal my mind changed ; their glittering weapons so 
daunted my spirit, that I chose rather to go along with those (as 
I may say) ravenous Bears, then that moment to end my dayes; 
and that I may the better declare what happened to me during 
thaf grievous Captivity I shall particularly speak of the severall 
Removes we had up and down the Wilderness. 

The first Remove. 

Now away we must go with those Barbarous Creatures, with 
our bodies wounded and bleeding, and our hearts no less than 
our bodies. About a mile we went that night, up upon a hill 
within sight of the Town where they intended to lodge. There 
was hard by a vacant house (deserted by the English before, for 
fear of the Indians) I asked them whether I might not lodge in 
the house that night to which they answered, what will you love 
English men still? this was the dolefullest night that ever my 
eyes saw. Oh the roaring, and singing and danceing, and yelling 
of those black creatures in the night, which made the place a 
lively resemblance of hell And as miserable was the wast that 
was there made, of Horses, Cattle, Sheep, Swine, Calves, Lambs, 
Roasting Pigs, and Fowl [which they had plundered in the Town] 
some roasting, some lying and burning, and some boyling to feed 
our merciless Enemies ; who were joyful enough though we were 
disconsolate To add to the dolefulness of the former day, and 



194 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

the dismalness of the present night: my thoughts ran upon my 
losses and sad bereaved condition. All was gone, my Husband 
gone (at least separated from me, he being in the Bay; and to add 
to my grief, the Indians told me they would kill him as he came 
homeward) my Children gone, my Relations and Friends gone, 
our House and home and all our comforts within door, and with- 
out, all was gone, (except my life) and I knew not but the next 
moment that might go too. There remained nothing to me but 
one poor wounded Babe, and it seemed at present worse than 
death that it was in such a pitiful condition, bespeaking. Com- 
passion, and I had no refreshing for it, nor suitable things to 
revive it. Little do many think what is the savageness and 
bruitishness of this barbarous Enemy; even those that seem to 
profess more than others among them, when the English have 
fallen into their hands. 

Those seven that were killed at Lancaster the summer before 
upon a Sabbath day, and the one that was afterward killed upon 
a week day, were slain and mangled in a barbarous manner, by 
one-ey'd John, and Marlborotigh's Praying Indians, which Capt. 
Mosely brought to Boston, as the Indians told me. 

The second Remove. 

But now, the next morning, I must turn my hack upon the Town, 
and travel with them into the vast and desolate Wilderness, I knew 
not whither. It is not my tongue, or pen can express the sorrows 
of my heart, and bitterness of my spirit, that I had at this de- 
parture : but God was with me, in a wonderfull manner, carrying 
me along, and bearing up my spirit, that it did not quite fail 
One of the Indians carried my poor wounded Babe upon a horse, 
it went moaning all along I shall dy, I shall dy. I went on foot 
after it, with sorrow that cannot be exprest. At length I took it 
ofif the horse, and carried it in my armes till my strength failed, 
and I fell down with it : Then they set me upon a horse with my 
wounded Child in my lap,, and there being no furnituure upon the 
horse back ; as we were going down a steep hill, we both fell over 
the horses head, at which they like inhumane creatures laught, 
and rejoyced to see it, though I thought we should there have 



MARY ROWLANDSON 195 

ended our dayes, as overcome with so many difficulties. But 
the Lord renewed my strength still, and carried me along, that 
I might see more of his Power; yea, so much that I could never 
have thought of, had I not experienced it. 

After this it quickly began to snow, and when night came on, 
they stopt: and now down I must sit in the snow, by a little fire, 
and a few bottghs behind me, with my sick Child in my lap; and 
calling much for water, being now {through the wound) fallen into 
a violent Fever. My own wound also growing so stiff, that I could 
scarce sit down or rise up; yet so it must be, that I must sit all 
this cold winter night upon the cold snowy ground, with my sick 
Child in my armes, looking that every hour would be the last of 
its life; and having no Christian friend near me, either to comfort 
or help me. Oh, I may see the wonderfull power of God, that my 
Spirit did not utterly sink under my affliction: still the Lord up- 
held me with his gracious and mercifull Spirit, and we were both 
alive to see the light of the next morning. 

SOME INCIDENTS OF THE EIGHTH REMOVE 

[From "The Narrative of the Captivity," etc.] 

We travelled on till night ; and in the morning, we must go over 
the River to Philip's Crew. When I was in the Cannoe, I could 
not but be amazed at the numerous crew of Pagans that were on 
the Bank on the other side. When I came ashore, they gathered 
all about me, I sitting alone in the midst: I observed they asked 
one another questions, and laughed, and rejoyced over their 
Gains and Victories. Then my heart began to fail: and I fell 
a weeping which was the first time to my remembrance, that I 
wept before them. Although I had met with so much Affliction, 
and my heart was many times ready to break, yet could I not shed 
one tear in their sight : but rather had been all this while in a maze, 
and like one astonished: but now I may say as, Psal 137. i. By 
the Rivers of Babylon, there we sat down : yea, we wept when we 
remembered Zion. There one of them asked me, why I wept, 
I could hardly tell what to say: yet I answered, they would kill 
me: No, said he, none will hurt you. Then came one of them 
and gave me two spoon-fulls of Meal to comfort me, and another 



196 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

gave me half a pint of Pease ; which was more worth than many- 
Bushels at another time. Then I went to see King Philip, he 
bade me come in and sit down, and asked me whether I would 
smoke it (a usual Complement now adayes amongst Saints and 
Sinners) but this no way suited me. For though I had formerly 
used Tobacco, yet I had left it ever since I was first taken. It 
seems to be a Bait, the Devil layes to make men loose their precious 
time: I remember with shame, how formerly, when I had taken 
two or three pipes, I was presently ready for another, such a be- 
witching thing it is : But I thank God, he has now given me power 
over it ; surely there are many who may be better imployed than 
to ly sucking a stinking Tobacco-pipe. 

Now the Indians gather their Forces to go against North- 
Hampton : over-night one went about yelling and hooting to give 
notice of the design. Whereupon they fell to boyhng of Ground- 
nuts, and parching of Corn (as many as had it) for their Provi- 
sion : and in the morning away they went : During my abode in 
this place, Philip spake to me to make a shirt for his hoy, which 
I did, for which he gave me a shilling : I offered the mony to my 
master, but he bade me keep it: and with it I bought a piece of 
Horseflesh. Afterwards he asked me to make a Cap for his boy, 
for which he invited me to Dinner. I went, and he gave me a 
Pancake, about as big as two fingers; it was made of parched 
wheat, beaten, and fryed in Bears grease, but I thought I never 
tasted pleasanter meat in my life. There was a Squaw who 
spake to me to make a shirt for her Sannup, for which she gave 
me a piece of Bear. Another asked me to knit a pair of Stockins, 
for which she gave me a quart of Pease: I boyled my Pease and 
Bear together, and invited my master and mistriss to dinner, but 
the proud Gossip, because I served them both in one Dish, would 
eat nothing, except on bit that he gave her upon the point of his 
knife. Hearing that my son was come to this place, I went to 
see him, and found him l)dng flat upon the ground: I asked him 
how he could sleep so ? he answered me. That he was not asleep, 
but at Prayer; and lay so that they might not observe what he 
was doing. I pray God he may remember these things now he is 
returned in safety. At this Place (the sun now getting higher) 
what with the beams and heat of the Sun, and the smoak of the 



MARY ROWLANDSON , I97 

Wigwams, I thought I should have been blind, I could scarce 
discern one Wigwam from another. There was here one Mary 
Thurston of Medfield, who seeing how it was with me, lent me a 
Hat to wear: but as soon as I was gone, the Squaw who owned 
that Mary Thurston came running after me, and got it away 
again. Here was the Squaw that gave me one spoonfull of Meal. 
I put it in my Pocket to keep it safe: yet notwithstanding some 
body stole it, but put five Indian Corns in the room of it : which 
Corns were the greatest Provisions I had in my travel for one day. 

THE CONCLUDING MEDITATION 

[From "The Narrative of the Captivity," etc.] 

/ can remember the time, when I used to sleep quietly without 
workings in my thoughts, whole nights together, but now it is other- 
wayes with me. When all are fast about me, and no eye open, 
but his who ever waketh, my thoughts are upon things past, upon 
the awf ull dispensation of the Lord towards us ; upon his wonder- 
full power and might, in carrying of us through so many diffi- 
culties, in returning us in safety, and sufifering none to hurt us. 
I remember in the night season, how the other day I was in the 
midst of thousands of enemies, & nothing but death before me: 
It was then hard work to perswade my self, that ever I should be 
satisfied with bread again. But now we are fed with the finest 
of the Wheat, and, as I may say. With honey out of the rock : 
In stead of the Husk, we have the fatted Calf: The thoughts of 
these things in the particulars of them, and of the love and good- 
ness of God towards us, make it true of me, what David said of 
himself, Psal. 6. 5. / watered my Couch with my tears. Oh ! the 
wonderfuU power of God that mine eyes have seen, affording 
matter enough for my thoughts to run in, that when others are 
sleeping mine eyes are weeping. 

/ have seen the extrem vanity of this World: One hour I have 
been in health, and wealth, wanting nothing: But the next hour 
in sickness and wounds, and death, having nothing but sorrow and 
affliction. 

Before I knew what affliction means, I was ready sometimes to 
wish for it. When I Uved in prosperity; having the comforts of 



198 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

the World about me, my relations by me, my Heart chearfull: 
and taking little care for any thing: and yet seeing many, whom 
I preferred before my self, under many tryals and afiflictions, in 
sickness, weakness, poverty, losses, crosses, and cares of the World, 
I should be sometimes jealous least I should have my portion in 
this life, and that Scripture would come to my mind, Heb. 12. 6. 
For whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and sconrgeth every Son 
whom he receiveth. But now I see the Lord had his time to 
scourge and chasten me. The portion of some is to have their 
afflictions by drops, now one drop and then another; but the 
dregs of the Cup, the Wine of astonishment: like a sweeping 
rain that leaveth no food, did the Lord prepare to be my portion 
AfHiction I wanted, and afHiction I had, full measure (I thought) 
pressed down and running over ; yet I see, when God calls a per- 
son to any thing, and through never so many difficulties, yet he 
is fully able to carry them through, and make them see, and say 
they have been gainers thereby. And I hope I can say in some 
measure, as David did, // is good for me that I have been afflicted. 
The Lord hath shewed me the vanity of these outward things. 
That they are the Vanity of vanities, and vexation of spirit; that 
they are but a shadow, a blast, a bubble, and things of no con- 
tinuance. That we must rely on God himself, and our whole 
dependence must be upon him. If trouble from smaller matters 
began to arise in me, I have something at hand to check myself 
with, and say, why am I troubled? It was but the other day 
that if I had had the world, I would have given it for my freedom, 
or to have been a Servant to a Christian. I have learned to look 
beyond present and smaller troubles, and to be quieted under 
them, as Moses, said, Exod. 14. 13. Stand still and see the salva- 
tion of the Lord. 



INCREASE MATHER 

[Increase Mather was bom in Dorchester, Mass., in 1639. His father, 
Richard Mather, was one of the ministers who left England in the time of 
Archbishop Laud, and has already been mentioned as one of the authors of 
the "Bay Psalm Book." Increase was graduated from Harvard, and after- 
ward studied in Dublin and preached in various parts of Great Britain. Like 
his father, he was driven out for nonconformity, and returned to America, 
where he at length became pastor of the North Church, Boston. 

Increase Mather's active life, which extended until 1723, coincided with 
a troubled period in the history of New England. The wars with the Indians, 
which began about 1675, were followed by serious difficulties with the Eng- 
lish authorities regarding the form of colonial government. At the same 
time a change was taking place in the Church. The power of the ministers 
was declining, and the people were becoming, as Conservatives like the 
Mathers believed, hopelessly lax in their beliefs and practices. In this time 
of change. Increase Mather was a leader in both political and religious move- 
ments. He maintained that the affiictions of the colonies were a divine pun- 
ishment for lack of religious devotion, and his "Brief History of the War 
with the Indians in New-England" (1676), and "A Relation of the Troubles 
which have hapned in New-England by reason of the Indians there" (1677) 
were written to emphasize this lesson. He opposed the " half-way covenant " 
and all liberal tendencies in the church, and was instrumental in the calling 
of the "Reforming Synod" which proposed to remove God's displeasure at 
New England by returning to a stricter and purer faith. He served as presi- 
dent of Harvard College from 1685 to 1701, when the Liberal party secured 
legislation that forced him to resign. Meanwhile he had visited England 
as the agent of the colony, and had attempted to have the old charter re- 
stored. Finding this impossible, he procured a new charter, which was 
probably as liberal as could have been secured, but which was unsatisfac- 
tory to the Radical party in the colony. 

Both Increase Mather and his son Cotton incurred something of the 
obloquy which is sure to devolve on Conservatives who fight for a hopeless 
cause. He has been charged, in particular, with responsibility for the witch- 
craft persecutions. It is true that he seems to have been eagerly credulous 
regarding the direct workings of Satan, as is shown in his "Essay for the 
Recording of Illustrious Providences" (1684), and other writings; but he 
had little direct connection with the affairs at Salem, and he always advised 
against proceeding on insufficient evidence. 

Increase Mather was the author of nearly one hundred and fifty pub- 
lished works, including many sermons, and some pamphlets on the political 

199. 



200 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

situation printed anonymously. His style, while not wholly free from ped- 
antry, is more direct and simple than that of his son. Perhaps his most 
readable work, though not the one that does most credit to his judgment, 
is the "Essay for the Recording of Illustrious Providences." 

The selections from the "Historical Discourse Concerning the Preva- 
lency of Prayer" and from the "History of the War with the Indians" are 
from the editions edited by Samuel G. Drake; the passages from "An 
Essay for the Recording of Illustrious Providences" are from the first edition, 
Boston, 1684; the Letter to Governor Dudley is from the Massachusetts 
Historical Society Collections.] 

THE POWER OF PRAYER 

[From "An Historical Discourse Concerning the Prevalency of Prayer"] 

It was a great Word (and if rightly understood, a true Word) 
which Luther spake when he said, Est quaedam precum omni- 
potentia, there is a kind of Omnipotency in Prayer; and the 
Reason is obvious, viz. In that the Almighty doth suffer himself 
to be prevailed upon and overcome by Prayer. Had not Jacob 
in this respect Power with God? Yea when he made his Suplica- 
tion, he had Power, and prevailed over the Angel, even that 
Angel who is the Lord of Hosts, the Lord is his Memorial. Where 
do we find in all the Books of God a more wonderful] Expression, 
then that of the Lord to praying Moses, Now let me alone ? That 
ever the eternal God should become thus a Petitioner to a poor 
mortal Man ! Feriendi licentiatn petit a Mose qui fecit Mosen. 
Prayer then is like the Sword of Saul, or the Bow of Jonathan, 
which never returned empty from the Battle. Prayer is stronger 
than iron Gates. At the Prayers of the Church the iron Gates 
fly open, and the Apostles Fetters fall off. Sometimes the Prayers 
of one Man that hath an eminent Interest in God, are a Means 
to preserve a whole Town, yea a whole Land from Destruction, 
wel might the Antient say, Homine probo orante nihil potentius. 
How far did Abrahams Prayers prevail for Sodom? Did not 
Elijahs Prayers open and shut the Windows of Heaven? Did 
they not bring down Showers when the gasping Earth was ready 
to dy for Thirst ? When a fiery Drought had like to have devoured 
the Land of Israel, and the Prophet Amos prayed and cried to 
the Lord, saying, O Lord God, Cease I beseech thee, by whom shall 



INCREASE MATHER 20I 

Jacob arise? for he is small; the Lord repented for this, and said 
this shall not be. 

Wars, when justly undertaken, have been successful through 
the prevalency of Prayer. 

Moses in the Mount praying, is too strong for all the Armies 
in the Valley fighting. When the Philistines went up against the 
Children of Israel, Samuel ceased not to cry to the Lord for Israel, 
and the Lord thundered with a great thunder that Day upon the 
Phihstines, and discomfited them, that they were smitten before 
Israel. Jehoshaphat, when surrounded by a Multitude of heathen 
Enemyes, by Prayer overcame them. When Zera the Ethiopian 
came against the Lords People with an Host of a thousand thou- 
sand Men, Asa by Prayer and Faith overcame them all. Hezekiah 
and Isaiah by their prayers brought an Angel down from Heaven, 
who slew an hundred and fourscore and five thousand Assyrians, 
in the Host of Sennacherib in one Night. 

And besides these and many Scriptural Examples in ecclesiasti- 
cal Story, Instances to this Purpose are frequently observed. 
The History of the thundering Legion is famously known. Thus 
it was. 

The Emperour Marcus Aurelius going to war against the Quads, 
Vandals, Sarmats and Germans, who were nine hundred seventy 
and five thousand fighting Men ; The Imperialists were so cooped 
up by their numerous Enemies, in strait, dry, and hot Places, 
that the Souldiers having been destitute of Water for five Days 
together, they were all like to have perished for thirst. In this 
extremity, a Legion of Christian Souldiers being in the Army, 
withdrew themselves apart from the Rest, and falling prostrate 
on the Earth, by ardent Prayers prevailed v^dth God, that he 
imediately sent a most plentiful Rain, whereby the Army that 
otherwise had perished, was refreshed and dreadfull Lightnings 
flashed in the Faces of their Enemies, so as that they were dis- 
comfited and put to flight. The Effect of which was, that the 
Persecution which before that the Emperour designed against 
the Christians, was diverted; and that praying Legion did after- 
wards, bear the Name of K€pvvo(3o\o<: the Lightning Legion. 

Constantine the Great, being to join the Battle with the Heathen 
Tyrant Licinius, singled out a number of godly Ministers of Christ, 



202 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

and with them betook himself to earnest Prayer and Supplication, 
after which God gave him a notable and glorious Victory over his 
Enemies. But Licinius himselfe escaped at that Time, and 
raised another Army, which was pursued by Constantine, who 
before he would engage with the Enemy, caused a Tent to be 
erected, wherein he did spend some Time in Fasting and Prayer, 
being attended with a Company of holy praying Men round about 
him, after which marching against his Enemies, he fought them, 
and obtained a more glorious Victory than the former, and the 
Grand Rebel Licinius was then taken Prisoner. 

Theodosius being in no small Danger by Reason of the potent 
Army of Adversaryes he had to do with, in his Distress cryed unto 
Heaven for Help, and behold ! the Lord sent such a terrible Tem- 
pest, as the like was not known, whereby the Darts of the Enemy 
were driven back upon themselves, to their own Confusion, which 
caused Claudian the Poet, (though no great Friend to the Christian 
Name) to say concerning Theodosius, 

O nimium dilecte Deo cui militat /Ether, 
Et conjurati veniunt ad Classica Vcnti. 

It is storied concerning the City of Nisibis that being straitly 
besieged by Sapores King of Persia, the distressed Citizens de- 
sired a devout and holy Man amongst them (whose Name was 
James) to be earnest with the Lord in their Behalf. He was so: 
and the Effect was, God sent an Army of Gnats and Flyes among 
the Persians, which so vexed and tormented them, as that they 
were forced to raise the Seige and depart. 

Amongst the Waldenses sometimes an inconsiderable Number 
have prevailed over their popish Adversaryes. At one Time 
five hundred of these poor praying Saints overthrew two thousand 
and five hundred of their Enemies who scoffed at them because 
they would fall upon their knees and pray before they would fight. 

In the Land of our Father's Sepulchres, when Oswald (who 
succeded his Father Ethelfride in the Northern Kingdom) was 
assaulted by Cedwalla and Penda, two Heathen Kings, that raised 
a great Army, designing the Ruin of Oswald and his People, he 
humbly and earnestly addressed himself to the Lord of Hosts, 
the great Giver of Victory, entreating him to shew his own Power 



INCREASE MATHER 203 

in saving and protecting his People from the Rage of heathen 
Adversaryes : which, joyning battle with his Enemyes, albeit 
their Army was far greater than his, he obtained a wonderful 
Victory, wherein CedwaUa himself was slain. 

When England was invaded by the Danes under the Conduct 
of their King Osnck, who encamped at Ashdon, King Ethelred 
betook himself to Prayer; and marching against the Danish Army, 
put them to flight, and slew the greatest Part of them. 

Gustavus Adolphus the King of Sweden, no sooner landed in 
his Enemies Territoryes, but he addressed himself to Heaven 
for Victory, and encouraged his Counsellors and Commanders 
by saying The greater the Army of Prayers is, the greater and more 
assured shall be our Victory. Yea it was his Manner when the 
Armyes were set in Battle array, to lift up his Eyes to Heaven 
and say, Lord prosper the Battle of this Day, according as thou 
seest my Heart dost aim at thy Glory, and the good of thy Church. 
And how successful did God make that excellent Prince to be? 

But what need we go far to find Examples confirming the Truth 
of this Assertion, that Prayer is of Wonderfiill Prevelancy, since 
our own Eyes have seen it? New England may now say, if the 
Lord (even the Prayer hearing God) had not been on our Side 
when Men rose up against us, they had swallowed us up; then 
the proud Waters had gone over our Soul. And thus hath it been 
more than once or twice, especially since the late Insurrection 
and Rebellion of the Heathen Nations round about us. We can- 
not but acknowledge, and Posterity must know, that we were in 
Appearance a gone and ruined People, and had been so ere this 
Day, if the Lord had not been a God that heareth Prayer. 

THE BEGINNING OF KING PHILIP'S WAR 

[From "Brief History of the War with the Indians in New England"] 

June 24. (Midsummer-day) was appointed and attended as 
a day of solemn Humiliation throughout that Colony, by fasting 
and praying, to intreat the Lord to give success to the present 
Expedition respecting the Enemy. At the conclusion of that day 
of Humiliation, as soon as ever the People in Swanzy were come 
from the place where they had been praying together, the Indians 



204 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

discharged a volley of shot, whereby they killed one man, and 
wounded others. Two men were sent to call a Surgeon for the 
rehef of the wounded, but the Indians killed them by the way: 
And in another part of the Town six men were killed, so that there 
were Nine Englishmen murthered this day. 

Thus did the War begin, this being the first English blood 
which was spilt by the Indians in an Hostile way. The Provi- 
dence of God is deeply to be observed, that the Sword should 
be first drawn upon a day of Humiliation, the Lord thereby de- 
claring from Heaven that he expected something else from his 
People besides Fasting and Prayer. 

Plymouth being thus suddenly involved in trouble, send to the 
other united Colonies for aid, and their desires were Vv^ith all readi- 
ness complied with. 

Souldiers marched out of Boston towards Mount-hope, June 26, 
and continued marching that night, when there hapned a great 
Eclipse of the Moon, which was totally darkned above an hour. 
Only it must be remembred, that some days before any Souldiers 
went out of Boston, Commissioners were sent to treat with Philip, 
that so if possible, ingaging in a war might be prevented. But 
when the Commissioners came near to Mount-hope, they found 
divers Englishmen on the ground, weltering in their own blood, 
having been newly murdered by the Indians, so that they could 
not proceed farther. Yea, the Indians killed a man of this Colony 
as he was travelling on the road before such time as we took up 
arms : In which respect no man can doubt of the justness of our 
Cause, since the Enemy did shed the blood of some of ours who 
never did them (our Enemies themselves being judges) the least 
wrong before we did at all offend them, or attempt any act of 
hostility towards them. 

June 29th was a day of publick Humiliation in this Colony, 
appointed by the Council in respect of the war which is now begun. 

This morning our Army would have ingaged with the Enemy. 
The Indians shot the Pilot who was directing our Souldiers in 
their way to Philips Country, and wounded several of our Men, 
and ran into Swamps, rainy weather hindred a further pursuit 
of the Enemy. An awful Providence happened at this time: 
For a Souldier (a stout man) who was sent from Water-town, 



INCREASE MATHER 205 

seeing the English Guide slain, and hearing many profane oaths 
among some of our Souldiers (namely those Privateers, who were 
also Volunteers) and considering the unseasonableness of the 
weather was such, as that nothing could be done against the 
Enemy; this man was possessed with a strong conceit, that God 
was against the English; whereupon he immediately ran dis- 
tracted, and so was returned home a lamentable Spectacle. 

In the beginning of July, there was another Skirmish with the 
Enemy, wherein several of the Indians were killed, amongst whom 
were Philips chief Captain, and one of his Counsellors. 

Now it appears that Squaw-Sachem of Pocasset, her men were 
conjoyned with the Womponoags (that is Philips men) in this 
Rebellion. 

About this time they killed several English at Tatinton, and 
Burnt divers Plouses there. Also at Swanzy, they caused about 
half the Town to be consumed with merciless Flames. Likewise 
Middlebury and Dartmouth, in Plimouth Colony, did they burn 
with Fire, and barbarously murdered both men and women in 
those places, stripping the slain, whether Men or Women, and 
leaving them in the open Field, as naked as in the day wherein 
they were born. Such also is their Inhumanity, as that they 
flay off the skin from their Faces and Heads of those they get 
into their hands, and go away with the hairy Scalps of their 
Enemies. 

July 19. Our Army pursued Philip, who fled into a dismal 
Swamp for refuge : The English Souldiers followed him, and killed 
many of his men, also about fifteen of the English were then slain. 
The Swamp was so Boggy, and thick of Bushes, as that it was 
judged to proceed further therein would be but to throw away 
Mens lives. It could not there be descerned who were English, 
and who the Indians. Our Men when in that hideous place if 
they did but see a Bush stir would fire presantly, whereby 'tis 
verily feared they did sometimes unhappily shoot English Men 
instead of Indians. Wherefore a Retreat was sounded, and night 
coming on, the Army withdrew from that place. This was be- 
cause the desperate Distress which the Enemy was in was unknown 
to us, for the Indians have since said, that if the English had 
continued at the Swamp all night, nay, if they had but followed 



2o6 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

them but one half hour longer, Philip had come and yielded up 
himself. But God saw we were not yet fit^or Deliverance, nor 
could Health be restored unto us except a great deal more Blood 
be first taken from us : and other places as well as Plimouth stood 
in need of such a Course to be taken with them. It might ra- 
tionally be conjectured, that the unsuccessfulness of this Expedi- 
tion against Philip would embolden the Heathen in other parts 
to do as he had done, and so it came to pass. For July 14, the 
Nipnep (or Nipmuck) Indians began their mischief at a Town 
called Mendam (had we mended our ways as we should have done, 
this Misery might have been prevented) where they committed 
Barbarous Murders. This day deserves to have a Remark set 
upon it, considering that Blood was never shed in Massachusetts 
Colony in a way of Hostility before this day. Moreover the 
Providence of God herein is the more awful and tremendous, 
in that this very day the Church in Dorchester was before the Lord, 
humbling themselves by Fasting and Prayer, on account of the 
day of trouble now begun amongst us. 

The news of this Blood-shed came to us at Boston the next day 
in Lecture time, in the midst of the Sermon, the Scripture then 
improved being that Isai. 42, 24. Who gave Jacob to the spoil 
and Israel to the robbers? did not the Lord, he against whom ye 
have sinned ? 

A BEWITCHED HOUSE 

[From "An Essay for the Recording of Illustrious Providences"] 

As there have been several Persons vexed with evil Spirits, 
so divers Houses have been wofully Haunted by them. In the 
Year 1679, the House of William Morse in Newberry in New- 
England, was strangely disquieted by a Dmnon. After those 
troubles began, he did by the Advice of Friends write down the 
particulars of those unusual Accidents. And the Account which 
he giveth thereof is as followeth; 

On December 3. In the night time, he and his Wife heard a 
noise upon the roof of their House, as if Sticks and Stones had 
been thrown against it with great violence; whereupon he rose 
out of his Bed, but could see nothing. Locking the Doors fast. 



INCREASE MATHER 207 

he returned to Bed again. About midnight they heard an Hog 
making a great noise in the House, so that the Man rose again, 
and found a great Hog in the House, the door being shut, but 
upon the opening of the door it ran out. 

On December 8. in the Morning, there were five great Stones 
and Bricks by an invisible hand thrown in at the west end of 
the house while the Mans Wife was making the Bed, the Bed- 
stead was lifted up from the floor, and the Bedstaff flung out of 
the Window, and a Cat was hurled at her ; a long staff danced up 
and down in the Chimney ; a burnt Brick, and a piece of a weather- 
board were thrown in at the Window : The Man at his going to 
Bed put out his Lamp, but in the Morning found that the Saveall 
of it was taken away, and yet it was unaccountably brought into 
its former place. On the same day, the long Staff but now spoken 
of, was hang'd up by a line, and swung to and fro, the Mans Wife 
laid it in the fire, but she could not hold it there, inasmuch as it 
would forcibly fly out; yet after much ado with joynt strength 
they made it to burn. A shingle flew from the Window, though 
no body near it, many sticks came in at the same place, only one 
of these was so scragged that it could enter the hole but a little 
way, whereupon the Man pusht it out, a great Rail likewise was 
thrust in at the Window, so as to break the Glass. 

At another time an Iron Crook that was hanged on a Nail, 
violently flew up and down, also a Chair flew about, and at last 
lighted on the Table where Victuals stood ready for them to eat, 
and was likely to spoil all, only by a nimble catching they saved 
some of their Meal with the loss of the rest, and the overturning 
of their Table. 

People were sometimes Barricado'd out of doors, when as yet 
there was no body to do it : and a Chest was removed from place 
to place, no hand touching it. Their Keys being tied together, 
one was taken from the rest, & the remaining two would fly about 
making a loud noise by knocking against each other. But the 
greatest part of this Devils feats were his mischievous ones, 
wherein indeed he was sometimes Antick enough too, and therein 
the chief sufferers were, the Man and his Wife, and his Grand-Son. 
The Man especially had his share in these Diabolical Molesta- 
tions. For one while they could not eat their Suppers quietly, 



208 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

but had the Ashes on the Hearth before their eyes thrown into 
their Victuals ; yea, and upon their heads and Clothes, insomuch 
that they were forced up into their Chamber, and yet they had no 
rest there; for one of the Man's Shoes being left below, 'twas 
filled with Ashes and Coals, and thrown up after them. Their 
Light was beaten out, and they being laid in their Bed with their 
little Boy between them, a great stone (from the Floor of the Loft) 
weighing above three pounds was thrown upon the mans stomach, 
and he turning it down upon the floor, it was once more thrown 
upon him. A Box, and a Board were likewise thrown upon them 
all. And a Bag of Hops was taken out of their Chest, wherewith 
they were beaten, till some of the Hops were scattered on the floor, 
where the Bag was then laid, and left. 

In another Evening, when they sat by the fire, the Ashes were 
whirled at them, that they could neither eat their Meat, nor en- 
dure the House. A Peel struck the Man in the face. An Apron 
hanging by the fire, was flung upon it, and singed before they 
could snatch it off. The Man being at Prayer with his Family, 
a Beesom gave him a blow on his head behind, and fell down 
before his face. 

On another day, when they were Winnowing of Barley, some 
hard dirt was thrown in, hitting the Man on the Head, and both 
the Man and his Wife on the back; and when they had made 
themselves clean, they essayed to fill their half Bushel but the 
foul Corn was in spite of them often cast in amongst the clean, 
and the Man being divers times thus abused was forced to give 
over what he was about. 

On January 23 (in particular) the Man had an iron Pin twice 
thrown at him, and his Inkhorn was taken away from him while 
he was writing, and when by all his seeking it he could not find it, 
at last he saw it drop out of the Air, down by the fire: a piece 
of Leather was twice thrown at him; and a shoe was laid upon 
his shoulder, which he catching at, was suddenly rapt from him. 
An handful of Ashes was thrown at his face, and upon his clothes: 
and the shoe was then clapt upon his head, and upon it he clapt 
his hand, holding it so fast, that somewhat unseen pulled him with 
it backward on the floor. 



INCREASE MATHER 209 

THE PROBATION BY COLD WATER 

[From "An Essay for the Recording of Illustrious Providences"] 

There is another Case of Conscience which may here be en- 
quired into, viz. Whether it be lawful to bind persons suspected 
for Witches, and so cast them into the Water, in order to making a 
discovery of their innocency or guiltiness; so as that if they keep 
above the Water, they shall be deemed as confcederate with the Devil, 
but if they sink they are to be acquitted from the crime of Witchcraft. 
As for this way of purgation it cannot be denied but that some 
learned men have indulged it. King JAMES approveth of it, in 
his Discourse of Witch-craft B. 3 Chap. 6. supposing that the 
water refuseth to receive Witches into its Bosom, because they 
have perfidiously violated their Covenant with God, confirmed by 
Water in Baptism. Kornmannus and Scribonius do upon the same 
ground justifie this way of tryal. But a worthy Casuist of our own 
giveth a judicious reply to this supposal, viz. that all Water is 
not the Water of Baptism, but that only which is used in the very 
act of Baptism. Moreover, according to this notion the Proba 
would serve only for such persons as have been Baptized. Wierus 
and Bodinus have written against this Experiment. So hath 
Hemmingius ; who saith, that is both superstitious and ridiculous. 
Likewise, that learned Physitian John Heurnius has pubhshed 
a Treatise, which he calls, Responsum ad supremam curiam Hol- 
landicB, nidliim esse cequcB innatationem lamiarum indicium. That 
Book I have not seen, but I find it mentioned in Meursius his 
AthencB Batavce. Amongst English Authors, Dr. Cott hath en- 
deavoured to shew the unlawfulness of using such a practice. 
Also Mr. Perkins is so far from approving of this Probation by 
cold water, as that he rather inclines to think that the persons 
who put it in practice are themselves after a sort practisers of 
Witch-craft. That most Learned, Judicious, and Holy Man, 
Gisbertus Vcetius in his so ementioned Exercitation de Magia, 
P. 573. endeavours to evince that the custom of trying Witches 
by casting them into the Water is unlawful, a Tempting of God, 
and indirect Magic. And that it is utterly unlawful, I am by the 
following Reasons, convinced: 



2IO EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

1. This practice has no Foundation in nature, nor in Scripture. 
If the Water will bear none but Witches, this must need proceed 
either from some natural or some supernatural cause. No natural 
cause is or can be assigned why the bodies of such persons should 
swim rather than of any other. The Bodies of Witches have not 
lost their natural Properties, they have weight in them as well as 
others. Moral changes and viceousness of mind, make no altera- 
tion as to these natural proprieties which are inseparable from 
the body. Whereas some pretend that the Bodies of Witches are 
possessed with the Devil, and on that account are uncapable of 
sinking under the water; Malderus his reply is rational, viz. that 
the Allegation has no solidity in it, witness the Gadarens Hoggs, 
which were no sooner possessed with the Devil but they ran into 
the Water, and there perished. But if the experiment be super- 
natural, it must either be Divine or Diabolical. It is not divine ; 
for the Scripture does no where appoint any such course to be 
taken to find out whether persons are in league with the Devil or 
no. It remains then that the experiment is Diabolical. If it be 
said, that the Devil has made a compact with Wizards, that they 
shall not be drowned, and by that means that Covenant is dis- 
covered; the Reply is, we may not in the least build upon the 
Devils word. By this Objection the matter is ultimately resolved 
into a Diabohcal Faith. And shall that cast the scale, when the 
lives of men are concerned ? Suppose the Devil saith these persons 
are Witches, must the Judge therefore condemn them ? 

2. Experience hath proved this to be a fallacious way of try- 
ing Witches, therefore it ought not to be practised. Thereby 
guilty persons may happen to be acquitted, and the innocent to be 
condemned. The Devil may have power to cause supernatation 
on the water in a person that never made any compact with him. 
And many times known and convicted Wizards have sunk under 
the water when thrown thereon. In the Bohemian History men- 
tion is made of several Witches, who being tried by cold water 
were as much subject to submersion as any other persons. Delrio 
reports the like of another Witch. And Godelmannus speaks of 
six Witches in whom this way of trial failed. Malderus saith it 
has been known that the very same persons being often brought 
to this probation by Water, did at one time swim and another 



INCREASE MATHER 211 

time sink; and this diflFerence has sometimes hapned according 
to the dilTerent persons making the experiment upon them; in 
which respect one might with greater reason conclude that the 
persons who used the experiment were Witches, then that the 
persons tried were so. 

3. This way of purgation is to be accounted of, hke other 
provocations or appeals to the Judgement of God, invented by 
men: such as Camp-fight, Explorations by hot water, &c. In 
former times it hath been customary (and I suppose tis so still 
among the Norwegians) that the suspected party was to put 
his hand into scalding water, and if he received no hurt thereby 
then he was reputed innocent ; but if otherwise, judged as guilty. 
Also, the trial by fire Ordeal has been used in our Nation in times 
of Darkness. Thus Emma the Mother of King Edward the 
Confessor, was led barefoot and blindfold over certain hot irons, 
and not hapning to touch any of them, was judged innocent of 
the crime which some suspected her as guilty of. And Kimegund 
Wife to the Emperour Henry II. being accused of Adultery, to 
clear her self, did in a great and honourable Assembly take up 
seven glowing irons one after onother with her bare hand, and 
had no harm thereby. These bloody kind of Experiments are 
now generally banished out of the World. It is pity the Ordeal 
by cold water is not exploded with the other. 

4. This vulgar probation (as it useth to be called) was first 
taken up in times of Superstition, being (as before was hinted of 
other Magical Impostures) propagated from Pagans to Papists, 
who would (as may be gathered from Bernards 66 Serm. in Can- 
tica) sometimes bring those that were under suspicion for Heresie 
unto their Purgation in this way. We know that our Ancestors, 
the old Pagan Saxons had amongst them four sorts of Ordeal 
{i.e. Trial or Judgement as the Saxon word signifies) whereby 
when sufficient proof was wanting, they sought (according as the 
Prince of darkness had instructed them) to find out the truth 
concerning suspected persons, one of which Ordeals was this, 
the persons surmised to be guilty, having Cords tied under their 
Arms, were thrown with it into some River, to see whether they 
would sink or swim. So that this Probation was not originally 
confined to Witches, but others supposed to be Criminals were 



212 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

thus to be tried: but in some Countries they thought meet thus 
to examine none but those who have been suspected for famiharity 
with the Devil. That this custom was in its first rise supersti- 
tious is evident from the Ceremonies of old used about it. For 
the Proba is not canonical, except the person be cast into the 
Water with his right hand tied to his left foot. Also, by the 
Principle which some approvers of this Experiment alledge to 
confirm their fansies; their Principle is. Nihil quod per Necro- 
mantian Jit, potest in aqua fallere aspectum intuentium. Hence 
William of Malmsbury, Lib. 2. P. 67. tells a fabulous Story 
(though he relates it not as such) of a Traveller in Italy that 
was by a Witch transformed into an Asse, but retaining his 
humane understanding would do such feats of activity, as one that 
had no more wit than an Asse could not do; so that he was sold 
for a great price ; but breaking his Halter he ran into the Water, 
and thence was instantly unbewitched, and turned into a Man 
again. This is as true as Lucian's Relation about his own being 
by Witch-craft transformed into an Asse; and I suppose both 
are as true as that cold water will discover who are Witches. It 
is to be lamented, that Protestants should in these days of light, 
either practise or plead for so Superstitious an Invention, since 
Papists themselves have of later times been ashamed of it. Ver- 
stegan in his Antiquities, Lib. 3, P. 53. speaking of the trials by 
Ordeal, and of this by cold water in particular, has these words; 
These aforesaid kinds of Ordeals, the Saxons long after their 
Christianity continued: but seeing they had their beginnings in 
Paganism and were not thought fit to be continued amongst Chris- 
tians; at the last by a Decree of Pope Stephen II. they were abolished. 
Thus he. Yea, this kind of trial by Water, was put down in 
Paris A. D. 1594. by the supream Court there. Some learned 
Papists have ingenuously acknowledged that such Probations are 
Superstitious. It is confessed that they are so, by Tyrceus, Bins- 
feldius, Delrio, and by Malderus de magia. Tract. 10. Cap. 8. 
Dub. II. who saith, that they who shall practise this Superstition, 
and pass a judgement of Death upon any persons on this account, 
will (without repentance) be found guilty of Murder before God. 
It was in my thoughts to have handled some other Cases of the 
like nature with these insisted on: but upon further considera- 



INCREASE MATHER 213 

tion, I suppose it less needful, the practises which have given 
occasion for them being so grosly Superstitious, as that they are 
ashamed to show their heads openly. The Chaldceans and other 
Magicians amongst the Heathen Nations of old, practised a sort 
of Divination by Sieves (which kind of Magic is called Coscino- 
mantia). The like Superstition has been frequent in Popish 
Countries, where they have been wont to utter some words of 
Scripture, and the Names of certain Saints over a Sieve, that so 
they might by the motion thereof, know where something stollen 
or lost was to be found. Some also have believed that if they 
should cast Lead into the Water, then Saturn would discover to 
them the thing they enquired after. It is not Saturn but Satan 
that maketh the discovery, when any thing is in such a way re- 
vealed. And of this sort is the foolish Sorcery of those Women 
that put the white of an Egg into a Glass of Water, that so they 
may be able to divine of what Occupation their future Husbands 
shall be. It were much better to remain ignorant than thus to 
consult with the Devil. These kind of practices appear at first 
blush to be Diabolical; so that I shall not multiply Words in 
evincing the evil of them. It is noted that the Children of Israel 
did secretly those things that are not right against the Lord their 
God, 2 King. 17. 9. I am told that there are some who do secretly 
practice such Abominations as these last mentioned, unto whom 
the Lord in mercy give deep and unfeigned Repentance and 
pardon for their grevious Sin. 

INCREASE MATHER TO GOVERNOR DUDLEY 

Sir, 

That I have had a singular respect for you, the Lord knows; 
but that since your arrival to the government, my charitable 
e.xpectations have been greatly disappointed, I may not deny. 
Without any further preface or compliments, I think it my duty 
freely and faithfully to let you understand what my sad fears 
concerning you are. 

ist. I am afraid you cannot clear yourself from the guilt of 
bribery and unrighteousness: For you to declare to Mr. New- 
ton, that he should not do what his office as judge in the ad- 



214 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

miralty obliged him unto, unless he would give you an hundred 
pounds, was surely a sin of that nature. And for you not to 
consent that some, whose titles to their land the General Assem- 
bly had confirmed, should enjoy their right, except they would 
give you a sum of money, is unrighteousness. To deny men their 
right, except they will by some gift purchase it, is certainly the 
sin of bribery, let who will be guilty of it. These and other things 
Mr. Newton and Mr. Partridge have given their affidavits of; 
and I hear that many things of this nature will shortly be dis- 
covered; There is a scripture that makes me think it will be so. 
Numb, xxxii. 23. 

2d. I am afraid that you have not been true to the interest 
of your country, as God (considering his marvellous dispensa- 
tions towards you) and his people have expected from you. Sir 
H. Ashurst writes to me, that it would fill a quire of paper for 
him to give a full account of your contrivances to ruin your coun- 
try, both this and the neighbour colony. Your son Paul's letter, 
dated January 12, 1703-4, to W. Wharton, seems to those that 
have read it, to be nothing short of a demonstration, that both of 
you have been contriving to destroy the charter privileges of the 
province; and to obtain a commission for a court of chancery, 
alias, a court of bribery. A gentleman in London gave ten 
pounds for that letter, that so his friends in New England might 
see what was plotting against them. 

3d. I am afraid that you cannot clear yourself from the guilt 
of much hypocrisy and falseness in the afifair of the college. In 
1686, when you accepted of an illegal arbitrary commission from 
the late K. James, you said, that the cow was dead, and therefore 
the calf in her belly: meaning the charter of the college and 
colony. You said (and truly enough) that it was not in the 
power of that government to constitute a corporation, it being 
contrary to a maxim in law, for a corporation to make a corpora- 
tion. And all writers who handle the subject, say, that a college 
cannot be erected without sovereign authority. But how much 
have you of late, to serve a design, said and done contrary to your 
former assertions ! What an happiness would it have been to the 
country and a glory to the college, to have had what was by the 
General Assembly in my Lord Bellamont's time, sent to and 



INCREASE MATHER 



215 



confirmed by royal authority. It is your fault, Sir, that it has 
not been done. For both Mr. Blathwait and Mr. Phips wrote, 
that if you desired it, the thing would be immediately dispatched. 
You promised me, you would endeavour it: yet some of the 
representatives told me at the same time, that you promised 
them the contrary. And I have been informed, that you have 
discouraged the matter from proceeding by letters home. Alas ! 
Sir, your friends are not faithful as they ought to be. Some 
whom you have promoted will backbite you, and say you are the 
falsest man in the world. But which of them have attended the 
divine precept? Lev. xix. 17. 

4th. I am afraid that the guilt of innocent blood is still crying 
in the ears of the Lord against you. I mean the blood of Leister 
and Milburn. My Lord Bellamont said to me, that he was 
one of the committee of Parliament who examined the matter; 
and that those men were not only murdered, but barbarously 
murdered. However, the murdered men have been cleared by 
the King, Lords, and Commons. It is out of my province to be 
a judge in things of this nature. Nevertheless, considering what 
the proper judges, who have had an impartial hearing of the 
case, have said, and what the gentleman who drew up a bill for 
taking off the attainder from those poor men, have written to me 
about it, I think you ought, for your family's sake, as well as 
your own, to lay that matter to heart, and consider whether you 
ought not to pray as Psalms, li. 14. 

5th. I am afraid that the Lord is offended with you, in that 
you ordinarily forsake the worship of God in the holy church to 
which you are related, in the afternoon on the Lord's day, and 
after the publick exercise, spend the whole time with some per- 
sons reputed very ungodly men. I am sure your father did not 
so. Can you sanctify the Sabbath in a conversation with such 
men ? Would you choose to be with them or such as they are in 
another world, unto which you are hastening? 2 Chron. xix. 2. 
I had like to have said, my heart mourns for you, because I 
believe greater troubles are very near unto you, than any that 
have befallen you from your youth unto this day; but I forbear, 
and may not at present acquaint you with. 

But, Sir, there are at present two reasons which induced me 



2l6 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

to discharge my conscience in laying before you my fears. One 
is, in that you have sometimes said, that if ever you had a spiritual 
father, I was the man. And there was a time when I encouraged 
the church, with whom I have been labouring in the work of the 
Lord these forty-six years and more, to call you to be my assistant 
in the ministry. The other is, that a letter thought to have been 
written by me, induced the late K. William to give you a com- 
mission for the government here. Sir H. Ashurst, in a letter 
dated the 25th of July last, says, that the day before a Right Hon- 
ourable person, one of her Majesty's Privy Council, assured 
him, that it was a letter of my son's which you read to the King, 
that inclined him to give you a commission, and that the King 
thought the letter had been mine. 

How glad should I be, if I could receive satisfaction that my 
fears of your being faulty, in the matters I have faithfully men- 
tioned to you, are groundless; but if otherwise considering such 
scriptures as these, Isai. Iviii. i. Jer. xxiii. 28. Math. xiv. 4, 5. 
I Tim. V. 21. I am under pressures of conscience to bear a pub- 
lick testimony without respect of persons; and I shall rejoice if 
it may be my dying testimony. I am now aged, expecting and 
longing for my departure out of the world every day. I trust in 
Christ that when I am gone, I shall obtain a good report of my 
having been faithful before him. To his mercy I commend you, 
and remain in him, 

Yours to serve, 

I. Mather. 

Boston, January 20, lyoy-B. 
To the Governour. 



COTTON MATHER 

[Cotton Mather, the son of Increase, and the grandson, on his mother's 
side, of John Cotton, was born in 1663, graduated at Harvard in 1678, and 
died in 1728. His active life was, therefore, largely contemporaneous with 
that of his father, with whom he was associated in the pastorate of the North 
Church after 1685. Here the two men worked side by side as leaders of the 
movement to retain the old beliefs, and the old prerogatives of the ministers. 
Their connection with the witchcraft excitement, perhaps the best-known 
episode in their lives, shows how seriously they took to heart the backsliding 
of Nev/ England, and how ready they were to see in any occurrence a judg- 
ment of God on the apostasy of his followers. Unlike Increase Mather, 
Cotton never travelled out of New England; and he seems to have differed 
from his father in being more learned, more self-centred, more violent in his 
prejudices, and less urbane. A comparison between the extract from his 
letter to Governor Dudley and Increase Mather's letter on the same occasion 
will show the difference in the literary styles of the two men, and throw some 
interesting side-lights on their respective characters. 

Cotton Mather was a man not only of great learning, but of great indus- 
try, and the amount of his writings was prodigious. The catalogue of his 
publications appended to his life by Samuel Mather contains three hundred 
and eighty-two titles, and it is known that he left still other printed works, 
besides many in manuscript. His publications range in size from sermons, 
which are of course most numerous, to the bulky "Magnalia Christi Ameri- 
cana: or, the Ecclesiastical History of New England, from its First Plant- 
ing in the Year 1620, unto the Year of our Lord, 1698." This is his most 
representative and most considerable work, and contains seven books. The 
first tells of the founding of the colonies, the second of the lives of the gov- 
ernors, the third of the lives of sixty ministers, the fourth of Harvard College, 
the fifth of the "Acts and Monuments of the Faith and Order in the Churches 
of New England," the sixth of wonderful providences, and the seventh of 
"The Wars of the Lord." One of the most famous of Cotton Mather's 
works is "The Wonders of the Invisible World : being an Account of the Try- 
als of several Witches Lately Executed in New England," "Published by the 
Special Command of his Excellency the Governour of the Province of the 
Massachusetts-Bay in New-England," with the evident purpose of defend- 
ing the action of the authorities in the proceedings at Salem. Another work 
which deserves mention is that commonly known as "Essays to do Good," 
which shows the practical side of the author, and had great influence on 
Benjamin Franklin. Cotton Mather is most readable in straightforward 
narratives, like his accounts of witchcraft, or his " Life of Sir William Phips"; 

217 



2l8 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

and in his exhortations on practical matters. In dealing with religious and 
philosophical subjects he is likely to be pompously and ridiculously pedantic. 
It must not be inferred from the fact that several of the selections given below 
deal with witchcraft that this is the subject of any great proportion of the 
author's work. 

The selections from "The Wonders of the Invisible World " are from the 
reprint in the "Library of Old Authors," London, 1862. The Letter to 
Governor Dudley is printed in the Collections of the Massachusetts His- 
torical Society. All the other selections are from the first edition of the 
"Magnalia," London, 1702.] 

SOME EVIDENCE THAT SUSANNA MARTIN WAS A 

WITCH 

[From "The Wonders of the Invisible World"] 

IV. John Atkinson testifi'd, That he exchanged a Cow with 
a Son of Susanna Martin's, whereat she muttered, and was un- 
wiUing he should have it. Going to receive this Cow, tho' he 
Hamstring'd her, and Halter'd her, she, of a Tame Creature, grew 
so mad, that they could scarce get her along. She broke all the 
Ropes that were fastned unto her, and though she were ty'd fast 
unto a Tree, yet she made her escape, and gave them such further 
trouble, as they could ascribe to no cause but Witchcraft. 

V. Bernard Peache testifi'd, That being in Bed, on the Lord's- 
day Night, he heard a scrabbling at the Window, whereat he 
then saw Susanna Martin come in, and jump down upon the 
Floor. She took hold of this Deponent's Feet, and drawing his 
body up into an Heap, she lay upon him near Two Hours; in 
all which time he could neither speak nor stir. At length, when 
he could begin to move, he laid hold on her Hand, and pulling 
it up to his Mouth, he bit three of her Fingers, as he judged, 
unto the Bone. Whereupon she went from the Chamber, down 
the Stairs, out at the Door. This Deponent thereupon called 
unto the People of the House, to advise them of what passed; 
and he himself did follow her. The People saw her not; but 
there being a Bucket at the Left-hand of the Door, there was a 
drop of Blood found upon it; and several more drops of Blood 
upon the Snow newly fallen abroad: There was Hkewise the 
print of her 2 Feet just without the Threshold; but no more 
sign of any Footing further off. 



COTTON MATHER 219 

At another time this Deponent was desired by the Prisoner, to 
come unto an Husking of Corn, at her House ; and she said, Ij 
he did not come, it were better that he did 1 He went not ; but 
the Night following, Susanna Martin, as he judged, and another 
came towards him. One of them said. Here he is 1 but he hav- 
ing a Quarter-staff, made a Blow at them. The Roof of the 
Barn, broke his Blow; but following them to the Window, he 
made another Blow at them, and struck them down; yet they 
got up, and got out, and he saw no more of them. 

About this time, there was a Rumour about the Town, that 
Martin had a Broken Head; but the Deponent could say noth- 
ing to that. 

The said Peache also testifi'd the Bewitching the Cattle to 
Death, upon Martin's Discontents. 

VI. Robert Downer testified, That this Prisoner being some 
Years ago prosecuted at Court for a Witch, he then said unto her, 
He believed she was a Witch. Whereat she being dissatisfied 
said. That some She-Devil would shortly fetch him away! Which 
words were heard by others, as well as himself. The Night fol- 
lowing, as he lay in his Bed, there came in at the Window, the 
likeness of a Cat, which flew upon him, took fast hold of his 
Throat, lay on him a considerable while, and almost killed him. 
At length he remembred what Susanna Martin had threatned 
the Day before; and with much striving he cried out, Avoid, 
thou She-Devil! In the Name of God the Father, the Son, and 
the Holy Ghost, Avoid! Whereupon it left him, leap'd on the 
Floor, and flew out at the Window. 

And there also came in several Testimonies, that before ever 
Downer spoke a word of this Accident, Susanna Martin and her 
Family had related. How this Downer had been handled ! 

Vn. John Kembal testified, that Susanna Martin, upon a 
Causeless Disgust, had threatned him, about a certain Cow of 
his. That she shoidd never do him any more Good: and it came 
to pass accordingly. For soon after the Cow was found stark 
dead on the dry Ground, without any Distemper to be discerned 
upon her. Upon which he was followed with a strange Death 
upon more of his Cattle, whereof he lost in one Spring to the 
Value of Thirty Pounds. But the said John Kembal had a 



220 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

further Testimony to give in against the Prisoner which was truly 
admirable. 

Being desirous to furnish himself with a Dog, he applied him- 
self to buy one of this Martin, who had a Bitch with Whelps in 
her House. But she not letting him have his choice, he said, 
he would supply himself then at one Blezdels. Having mark'd 
a Puppy, which he lik'd at Blezdels, he met George Martin, the 
Husband of the Prisoner, going by, who asked him. Whether he 
would not have one of his Wife^s Puppies f and he answered No. 
The same Day, one Edmond Eliot, being at Martinis House, 
heard George Martin relate, where this Kembal had been, and 
what he had said. Whereupon Susanna Martin replied. If I 
live, I'll give him Puppies enough/ Within a few days after, 
this Kembal, coming out of the Woods, there arose a little Black 
Cloud in the N. W. and Kembal immediately felt a force upon 
him, which made him not able to avoid running upon the stumps 
of Trees, that were before him, albeit he had a broad, plain Cart- 
way, before him ; but tho' he had his Ax also on his Shoulder to 
endanger him in his Falls, he could not forbear going out of his 
way to tumble over them. When he came below the Meeting 
House, there appeared unto him, a little thing like a Puppy, of a 
Darkish Colour; and it shot backwards and forwards between 
his Legs. He had the courage to use all possible Endeavours of 
Cutting it v^rith his Ax; but he could not Hit it: the Puppy gave 
a jump from him, and went, as to him it seem'd into the Ground. 
Going a little further, there appeared unto him a Black Puppy, 
somewhat bigger than the first, but as Black as a Cole. Its 
Motions were quicker than those of his Ax; it flew at his Belly, 
and away; then at his Throat; so, over his Shoulder one way, 
and then over his Shoulder another way. His Heart now began 
to fail him, and he thought the Dog would have tore his Throat 
out. But he recovered himself, and called upon God in his 
Distress; and naming the Name of Jesus Christ, it vanished 
away at once. The Deponent spoke not one Word of these 
Accidents, for fear of affrighting his Wife. But the next Morn- 
ing Edmond Eliot, going into Martin's House, this Woman asked 
him where Kembal was? He repHed, At Home, a Bed, for ought 
he knew. She returned, They say, he was frighted last Night. 



4 



COTTON MATHER 221 

Eliot asked, With what? She answered, With Puppies. Eliot 
asked, Where she heard of it, for he had heard nothmg of it ? She 
rejoined, About the Town. Altho' Kemhal had mentioned the 
Matter to no Creature living. 

VIII. William Brown testifi'd. That Heaven having blessed 
him with a most Pious and Prudent Wife, this Wife of his, one 
day met with Susanna Martin; but when she approach 'd just 
unto her, Martin vanished out of sight, and left her extreamly 
afifrighted. After which time, the said Martin often appear'd 
unto her, giving her no little trouble; and when she did come, 
she was visited with Birds, that sorely peck'd and prick'd her; 
and sometimes, a Bunch, like a Pullet's Egg, would rise in her 
Throat, ready to choak her, till she cry'd out, Witch, you shan't 
choak me! While this good Woman was in this extremity, the 
Chiu-ch appointed a Day of Prayer, on her behalf; whereupon 
her Trouble ceas'd; she saw not Martin as formerly; and the 
Church, instead of their Fast, gave Thanks for her Deliverance. 
But a considerable while after, she being Summoned to give in 
some Evidence at the Court, against this Martin, quickly there- 
upon, this Martin came behind her, while she was milking her 
Cow, and said unto her. For thy defaming her at Court, Vll make 
thee the miserablest Creature in the World. Soon after which, she 
fell into a strange kind of distemper, and became horribly frantick, 
and uncapable of any reasonable Action; the Physicians declar- 
ing, that her Distemper was praeternatural, and that some Devil 
had certainly bewitched her; and in that condition she now 
remained. 

IX. Sarah Atkinson testify'd. That Susanna Martin came 
from Amesbury to their House at Newbury, in an extraordinary 
Season, when it was not fit for any to Travel. She came (as she 
said, unto Atkinson) all that long way on Foot. She brag'd and 
shew'd how dry she was ; nor could it be perceived that so much 
as the Soles of her Shoes were wet. Atkinson was amazed at it; 
and professed, that she should her self have been wet up to the 
knees, if she had then came so far; but Martin reply'd, She 
scorn' d to be Drabbled/ It was noted, that this Testimony upon 
her Trial, cast her in a very singular Confusion. 



222 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

THE INVISIBILITY OF WITCHES 

[From "The Wonders of the Invisible World"] 

In all the Witchcraft which now Grievously Vexes us, I know 
not whether anything be more Unaccountable, than the Trick 
which the Witches have to render themselves, and their Tools 
Invisible. Witchcraft seems to be the Skill of Applying the 
Plastic Spirit of the World, unto some unlawful purposes, by 
means of a Confederacy with Evil Spirits. Yet one would wonder 
how the Evil Spirits themselves can do some things; especially 
at Invisibilizing of the Grossest Bodies. I can tell the Name 
of an Ancient Author, who pretends to show the way, how a 
man may come to walk about Invisible, and I can tell the Name 
of another Ancient Author, who pretends to Explode that way. 
But I will not speak too plainly Lest I should unawares Poison 
some of my Readers, as the pious Hemingius did one of his Ptipils, 
when he only by way of Diversion recited a Spell, which, they 
had said, would cure Agues. This much I will say; The notion 
of procuring Invisibility, by any Natural Expedient, yet known, 
is, I Believe, a meer Plinyism; How far it may be obtained by 
a Magical Sacrament, is best known to the Dangerous Knaves 
that have try'd it. But our Witches do seem to have got the 
knack : and this is one of the Things, that make me think, Witch- 
craft will not be fully understood, until the day when there shall 
not be one Witch in the World. 

There are certain people very Dogmatical about these matters; 
but I'll give them only these three Bones to pick. 

First, One of our bewitched people, was cruelly assaulted by 
a Spectre, that, she said, ran at her with a spindle: tho' no body 
else in the Room, could see either the Spectre or the spindle. At 
last, in her miseries, giving a snatch at the Spectre, she pull'd 
the spindle away, and it was no sooner got into her hand, but the 
other people then present, beheld, that it was indeed a Real, 
Proper, Iron spindle, belonging they knew to whom ; which when 
they lock'd up very safe, it was nevertheless by Demons imaccount- 
ably stole away, to do further mischief. 

Secondly, Another of our bewitched people, was haunted with 
a most abusive Spectre, which came to her, she said, with a sheet 



COTTON MATHER 



223 



about her. After she had undergone a deal of Teaze, from 
the Annoyance of the Spectre, she gave a violent snatch at 
the sheet, that was upon it; wherefrom she tore a corner, which 
in her hand immediately became Visible to a Roomful of Specta- 
tors; a palpable Corner of a Sheet. Her Father, who was now 
holding her, catch'd that he might keep what his daughter had 
so strangely siezed, but the unseen Spectre had like to have puU'd 
his hand off, by endeavouring to wrest it from him; however he 
still held it, and I suppose has it, still to show; it being but a 
few hours ago, namely about the beginning of this October, that 
this Accident happened; in the family of one Pitman, at Man- 
chester. 

Thirdly, a young man, delaying to procure Testimonials for 
his Parents, who being under confinement on suspicion of Witch- 
craft, required him to do that service for them, was quickly pur- 
sued with odd Inconveniences. But once above the Rest, an 
Officer going to put his Brand on the Horns of some Cows, be- 
longing to these people, which tho' he had siez'd for some of their 
debts, yet he was willing to leave in their possession, for the sub- 
sistence of the poor Family; this young man help'd in holding 
the Cows to be thus branded. The three first Cows he held 
well enough ; but when the hot Brand was clap'd upon the Fourth, 
he winced and shrunk at such a Rate, as that he could hold the 
Cow no longer. Being afterwards Examined about it, he con- 
fessed, that at that very instant when the Brand entered the Cow's 
Horn, exactly the like burning Brand was clap'd upon his own 
Thigh; where he has exposed the lasting marks of it, unto such 
as asked to see them. 

Unriddle these Things, — Et Eris mihi magnus Apollo. 

A TEMPERANCE EXHORTATION OF 1698 
[From "The Bostonian Ebenezer" '] 

And Oh ! That the Drinking-Houses in the Town might once 
come under a laudable Regulation. The Town has an Enormous 

[' The full title given by the author to this address is " The Bostonian Ebenezer. 
Some Historical Remarks on the State of Boston, the Chief Town of New-England, 
and of the EngUsh America. With Some Agreeable Methods for Preserving 



224 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

Number of them; will the Haunters of those Houses hear the 
Counsels of Heaven? For You that are the Town-Dwellers, to 
be oft, or long in your Visits of the Ordinary, 'twill certainly 
expose you to Mischiefs more than ordinary. I have seen certain 
Taverns, where the Pictures of horrible Devourers were hang'd 
out for the Signs; and, thought I, 'twere well if such Signs were 
not sometimes too too Significant : Alas, Men have their Estates 
devoured, their Names devoured, their Hours devoured, and their 
very Souls devoured, when they are so besotted, that they are not 
in their Element, except they be Tipling at such Houses. When 
once a Man is bewitched with the Ordinary, what usually becomes 
of him? He is a gone Man; and when he comes to Die, he'll 
cry out as many have done, Ale-Houses are Hell-Houses f Ale- 
Houses are Hell-Houses! But let the Owners of those Houses 
also now hear our Counsels. Oh! Hearken to me, that God may 
hearken to you another Day ! It is an Honest, and a Lawful, tho' 
it be not a very Desireahle Employment, that you have under- 
taken: You may Glorifie the Lord Jesus Christ in your Employ- 
ment if you will, and benefit the Town considerably. There was 
a very godly Man that was an Innkeeper, and a great Minister 
of God could say to that Man, in 3 John 2. Thy Soul prospereth. 
O let it not be said of you, since you are fallen into this Employ- 
ment, Thy Soul withereth! It is thus with too many: Especially, 
when they that get a License perhaps to Sell Drink out of Doors, 
do stretch their License to Sell within Doors. Those Private 
Houses, when once a Professor of the Gospel comes to Steal a 
Living out of them, it commonly precipitates them into abun- 
dance of wretchedness and confusion. But I pray God assist you 
that keep Ordinaries, to keep the Comnuindments of God in them. 
There was an Inn at Bethlehem where the Lord JESUS CHRIST 
was to be met withal. Can Boston boast of many such? Alas, 
too ordinarily it may be said, There is no Room for him in the 
Inn! My Friends, let me beg it of you, banish the unfruitful 
works of Darkness from yonr Houses, and then iheSun of Righteous- 

and Promoting the Good State of That, as well as any other Town in the like 
Circumstances." The text was i Sam. vii, 12; and it was delivered "At Boston 
Lecture, 7. d. 2. m. 1698." It is included in the "Magnalia," as a sort of ap- 
pendix to Book I.] 



COTTON MATHER 225 

ness will shine upon them. Don't countenance Drunkenness, 
Revelling, and Mis-spending of precious Time in your Houses: 
Let none have the Snares of Death laid for them in your Houses. 
You'll say, I shall Starve then! I say, better Starve than Sin: 
But you shall not. It is the Word of the Most High, Trust in 
the Lord, and do Good, and verily thou shall be Fed. And is not 
Peace of Conscience, with a Little, better than those Riches, that 
will shortly melt away, and then run like Scalding Metal down 
the very Bowels of thy Soul? 

THE DISCOVERY OF AMERICA 

[From the "Magnalia," Book I, Chap. I '] 

§ I. It is the opinion of some, though 'tis but an Opinion} 
and but of some Learned Men, That when the Sacred Oracles of 
Heaven assure us, Tlie Things under the Earth are some of those, 
whose Knees are to bow in the Name of Jesus, by those Things 
are meant the Inhabitants of America, who are Antipodes to those 
of the other Hemisphere. I would not Quote any Words of Lac- 
tantius, tho' there are some to Countenance this Interpretation, 
because of their being so Ungeo graphical: Nor would I go to 
strengthen the Interpretation by reciting the Words of the Indians 
to the first White Invaders of their Territories, We hear you are 
come from under the World, to take our World from us. But grant- 
ing the uncertainty of such an Exposition, I shall yet give the 
Church of God a certain Account of those Things, which in America 
have been Believing and Adoring the glorious Name of Jesus ; and 
of that Country in America, where those Things ha.ve been attended 
with Circumstances most remarkable. I can contentedly allow 
that America (which as the Learned Nicolas Fuller Observes, 
might more justly be called Columbina) was altogether unknown 
to the Penmen of the Holy Scriptures, and in the Ages when the 
Scriptures were Penned. I can allow, that those Parts of the 
Earth, which do not include America, are in the inspired Writings 
of Luke, and of Paul, stiled, All the World. I can allow, that the 

[-The title of the chapter is " Venisti tandem? or Discoveries of AMERICA, 
tending to, and ending in. Discoveries of NEW-ENGLAND."] 



226 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

Opinion of Torniellus, and of Pagius, about the Apostles Preaching 
the Gospel in America, has been sufficiently refuted by Basnagius. 
But I am out of the reach of Pope Zachary's Excommuni- 
cation. I can assert the Existence of the American Antipo- 
des: And I can Report unto the European Churches great 
Occurrences among these Americans. Yet I will Report every 
one of them with such a Christian and exact Veracity, that no 
Man shall have cause to use about any one of them, the Words 
which the great Austin (as great as he was) used about the Exist- 
ence of Antipodes; it is a Fable, and, nulla ratione credendum. 

§ 2. If the Wicked One in whom the whole World lyeth, were 
he, who like a Dragon, keeping a Guard upon the spacious and 
mighty Orchards of America, could have such a Fascination upon 
the Thoughts of Mankind, that neither this Balancing half of the 
Globe should be considered in Europe till a little more than two 
Hundred Years ago, nor the Clue that might lead unto it, namely, 
the Loadstone, should be known, till a Neapolitan stumbled upon 
it, about an Hundred Years before; yet the overruling Provi- 
dence of the great God is to be acknowledged, as well in the Con- 
cealing of America for so long a time, as in the Discovering of it, 
when the fulness of Time was come for the Discovery: For we 
may count America to have been concealed, while Mankind in 
the other Hemisphere had lost all Acquaintance with it, if we may 
conclude it had any from the Words of Diodorus Sictdus, that 
Phoenecians were by great Storms driven off the Coast of Africa, 
far Westward, i-n-l TroXAas ■^fj.ipa's, for many Days together, and 
at last fell in with an Island of prodigious Magnitude: or from 
the Words of Plato, that beyond the Pillars of Hercules there 
was an Island in the Atlantick Ocean, a/^a Xi/Svrj^ koI Ao-tixs 
fxa^wv larger than Africa and Asia put together: Nor should it 
pass without Remark, that Three most memorable things which 
have born a very great Aspect upon Humane Affairs, did near 
the same time, namely at the Conclusion of the Fifteenth, and 
the beginning of the Sixteenth Century, arise unto the World: 
The First was the Resurrection of Literature; the Second was 
the opening of America; the Third was the Reformation of Reli- 
gion. But, as probably, the Devil seducing the first Inhabitants 
of America into it, therein aimed at the having of them and their 



COTTON MATHER 227 

Posterity out of the sound of the Silver Trumpets of the Gospel, 
then to be heard through the Roman Empire; if the Devil had 
any Expectation, that by the Peopling of America, he should 
utterly deprive any Europeans of the Two Benefits, Literature 
and Religion, which dawned upon the miserable World, one just 
before, t'other just after, the first famed Navigation hither, 'tis 
to be hop'd he will be disappointed of that Expectation. The 
Church of God must no longer be wrapp'd up in Strabo's Cloak : 
Geography must now find work for a Christiano-graphy in Regions 
far enough beyond the Bounds wherein the Church of God had 
thro' all former Ages been circumscribed. Renown'd Churches 
of Christ must be gathered where the Ancients once Derided 
them that look'd for any Inhabitants. The Mystery of our Lord's 
Garments, made Four Parts, by the Soldiers that cast Lots for 
them, is to be accomplished in the good Sence put upon it by 
Austin, who if he had known America could not have given a 
better Quadripartita vestis Domini Jesu, quadripartitam figuravit 
ejus Ecclesiam, toto scilicet, qui quatuor partibus constat, terraram 
orbe dijjusam. 

§ 3. Whatever Truth may be in that Assertion of one who 
writes; If we may credit any Records besides the Scriptures, I 
know it might be said and proved well, that this New World was 
known, and partly Inhabited by Britains, or by Saxons /ro/n Eng- 
land, Three or Four Hundred Years before the Spaniards coming 
thither; which Assertion is Demonstrated from the Discourses 
between the Mexicans and the Spaniards at their first Arrival; 
and the Popish Reliques, as well as British Terms and Words, 
which the Spaniards then found among the Mexicans, as well as 
from undoubted Passages, not only in other Authors, but in the 
British Annals also: Nevertheless, Mankind generally agree to 
give unto Christopher Columbus, a Genoese, the Honour of being 
the First European that opened a way into these Parts of the World. 
It was in the Year 1492. that this famous Man, acted by a most 
vehement and wonderful Impulse, was carried into the Northern 
Regions of this vast Hemisphere, which might more justly therefore 
have receiv'd its Name from Him, than from Americus Vesputius 
a Florentine, who in the Year 1497. niade a further Detection of the 
more Southern Regions in this Continent. So a World, which 



228 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

has been one great Article among the Res deperditae of Pan- 
cirollus, is now found out, and the Affairs of the %vhole World have 
been affected by the finding of it. So the Church of our Lord 
Jesus Christ, well compared unto a Ship, is now victoriously sail- 
ing round the Globe after Sir Francis Drake's renowned Ship, 
called, The Victory, which could boast, 

Prima ego velivolis ambivi cursibus orbem. 

And yet the Story about Columbus himself must be corrected 
from the Information of De la Vega, That one Sanchez, a Native 
of Helva in Spain, did before him find out these Regions. He 
tells us, that Sanchez using to trade in a small vessel to the Canaries, 
was driven by a furious and tedious Tempest over unto these 
Western Countries ; and at his return he gave to Colon, ox Columbus, 
an account of what he had seen, but soon after died of a Disease 
he had got on his dangerous Voyage. However, I shall expect 
my Reader e're long to grant, that some things done since by 
Almighty God for the English in these Regions, have exceeded all 
that has hitherto been done for any other Nation: If this New 
World were not found out first by the English; yet in those re- 
gards that are of all the greatest, it seems to be found out more for 
them than any other. 

THE LIFE OF MR. RALPH PARTRIDGE 

[Chap. XI, Book III, of the "Magnalia"] 

When David was driven from his Friends into the Wilderness, 
he made this Pathetical Representation of his Condition, 'Twas 
as when one doth hunt a Partridge in the Mountains. Among 
the many worthy Persons who were persecuted into an American 
Wilderness, for their Fidelity to the Ecclesiastical Kingdom of our 
true David, there was one that bore the Name, as well as the State, 
of an hunted Partridge. What befel him, was, as Bede saith of 
what was done by Fcelix, Juxta nominis sui Sacramentum. 

This was Mr. Ralph Partridge, who for no Fault but the Deli- 
cacy of his good Spirit, being distress'd by the Ecclesiastical 
Setters, had no Defence, neither of Beak, nor Claw, but a Flight 
over the Ocean. 



COTTON MATHER 229 

The Place where he took Covert, was the Colony of Plymouth, 
and the Town of Duxbury in that Colony. 

This Partridge had not only the Innocency of the Dove, con- 
spicuous in his blameless and pious Life, which made him very 
acceptable in his Conversation ; but also the Loftiness of an Eagle, 
in the great Soar of his intellectual Abilities. There are some 
Interpreters, who understanding Church Officers by the living 
Creatures, in the Fourth Chapter of the Apocalypse, will have the 
Teacher to be intended by the Eagle there, for his quick Insight into 
remote and hidden things. The Church of Duxhiiry had such an 
Eagle in their Partridge, when they enjoy'd such a Teacher. 

By the same Token, when the Platform of Church-Disci pline 
was to be compos'd, the Synod at Cambridge appointed three Per- 
sons to draw up each of them, A Model of Church-Government, 
according to the Word of God, unto the end, that out of those, the 
Synod might form what should be found most agreeable ; which 
three Persons were Mr. Cotton, and Mr. Mather, and Mr. Part- 
ridge. So that in the Opinion of that Reverend Assembly, this 
Person did not come far behind the first three, for some of his 
Accomplishments. 

After he had been Forty Years a faithful and painful Preacher 
of the Gospel, rarely, if ever, in all that while interrupted in his 
Work, by any Bodily Sickness, he dy'd in a good Old Age about 
the Year 1658. 

There was one singular instance of a weaned Spirit, whereby he 
signalized himself unto the Churches of God. That was this: 
There was a time, when most of the Ministers in the Colony of 
Plymouth, left the Colony, upon the Discouragement which the 
want of a competent Maintenance among the needy and froward 
Inhabitants, gave unto them. Nevertheless, Mr. Partridge was, 
notwithstanding the Paucity and the Poverty of his Congregation, 
so afraid of being any thing that look'd like a Bird wandring 
from his Nest, that he remained with his poor People, till he took 
Wing to become a Bird of Paradise, along with the winged Sera- 
phim of Heaven. 

Epitaphium. 

Avolavit ! 



230 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

PERSONAL OBSERVATIONS OF A BEWITCHED 
CHILD 

[From the "Magnalia," Book VI, Chap. VII] 

It was the Eldest of these Children that fell chiefly under my 
own Observation : For I took her home to my own Family, partly 
out of compassion to her Parents, but chiefly, that I might be a 
critical Eye- Witness of things that would enable me to confute 
the Sadducism of this Debauch'd Age. Here she continu'd well 
for some Days ; applying her self to Actions of Industry and Piety : 
But Nov. 20. 1688. she cry'd out, Ah, they have found me out! 
and immediately she fell into her Fits; wherein we often observ'd, 
that she would cough up a Ball as big as a small Egg, into the side 
of her Wind pipe, that would near choak her, till by Stroaking 
and by Drinking it was again carry'd down. 

When I pray'd in the Room, first her Hands were with a strong, 
tho' not even Force, clapt upon her Ears: And when her Hands 
were by our Force pull'd away, she cry'd out, They make such a 
Noise, I cannot hear a Word! She complain'd that Glover's 
Chain was upon her Leg; and assaying to go, her Gate was ex- 
actly such as the chain'd Witch had before she dy'd. When her 
Tortures pass'd over, still Frolicks would succeed, wherein she 
would continue Hours, yea, Days together, talking perhaps never 
wickedly but always wittily beyond her self : And at certain Provo- 
cations her Torments would renew upon her, till we had left off 
to Give them ; yet she frequently told us in these Frolicks, That if 
she might but steal or be drunk, she should be well immediately. 
She told us, that she must go down to the bottom of our Well, (and 
we had much ado to hinder it) for they said there was Plate there, 
and they woidd bring her up safely again. 

We wonder'd at this: For she had never heard of any Plate 
there ; and we our selves, who had newly bought the House, were 
ignorant of it : but the former Owner of the House just then coming 
in, told us There had been Plate for 7nany Years lost at the Bottom 
of the Well. Moreover, one singular Passion that frequently 
attended her, was this: 



COTTON MATHER 



231 



An invisible Chain would be clapt about her, and she in much 
pain and Fear, cry out when {Theyy- began to put it on. Sometimes 
we could with our Hands knock it off, as it began to be fasten'd: 
But ordinarily, when it was on, she would be pull'd out of her Seat, 
with such Violence, towards the Fire, that it was as much as one 
or two of us could do to keep her out. Her Eyes were not brought 
to be perpendicular to her Feet, wlien she rose out of her Seat, as 
the Mechanism of an humane Body requires in them that rise; 
but she was dragg'd wholly by other Hands. And if we stamp'd 
on the Hearth, just between her and the Fire, she scream'd out, 
That by jarring the Chain, we hurt her. 

I may add, that [They] put an unseen Rope, with a cruel Noose, 
about her Neck, whereby she was choak'd until she was black in 
the Face : And tho' it was got off before it had kill'd her; yet there 
were the Red Marks of it, and of a Finger and a Thumb near it, 
remaining to be seen for some while afterwards. Furthermore, 
not only upon her own looking into the Bible, but if any one else 
in the Room did it, wholly unknown to her, she would fall intoun- 
sufferable Torments. 

A Quakers Book being brought her, she could quietly read whole 
Pages of it ; only the Name of GOD and CFIRIST, she still skipp'd 
over, being unable to pronounce it, except sometimes, stammering 
a Minute or two, or more upon it : And when we urg'd her to tell 
what the Word was that she miss'd, she would say, I must not 
speak it: They say I must not. You know what it is: 'Tis G, and 
O, and D. But a Book against Quakerism [They] would not allow 
her to meddle with. Such Books, as it might have been profitable 
and edifying for her to read, and especially her Catechisms, if she 
did but offer to read a Line in them, she would be cast into hideous 
Convulsions, and be tost about the House like a Foot ball : But 
Books of Jests being shewn her, she could read them well enough, 
and have cunning Descants upon them. Popish Books [They] 
would not hinder her from reading; but [They] would from read- 
ing Books against Popery. A Book which pretends to prove 
That there are no Witches, was easily read by her; only the Name 
Devils and Witches might not be utter'd. A Book which proves 
That there are Witches, being exhibited unto her, she might not read 
[' Throughout this selection the brackets are those of the original.] 



232 



EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 



it: And that Expression in the Story of Ann Cole, about running 
to the Rock, always threw her into sore Confusions. 

Divers of these Trials were made by many Witnesses: But I 
considering that there might be a Snare in it, put a seasonable 
Stop to this fanciful Business. Only I could not but be amaz'd 
at one thing: A certain Prayer-Book being brought her, she not 
only could read it very well, but also did read a large Part of it 
over, calling it her Bible, and putting a more than ordinary Re- 
spect upon it. If she were going into her Tortures, at the Tender 
of this Book, she would recover her self to read it: Only when she 
came to the Lord's Prayer now and then occurring in that Book, 
she would have her Eyes put out; so that she must turn over a 
new Leaf, and then she could read again. Whereas also there 
are Scriptures in that Book, she could read them there: but if 
any shew'd her the very same Scriptures in the Bible it self, she 
should sooner die than read them: And she was likewise made 
unable to read the Psalms in an ancient Metre, which this 
Prayer-Book had in the same Volume with it. 

Besides these, there was another inexplicable Thing in her Con- 
dition. Ever now and then, an Invisible Horse would be brought 
unto her by those whom she only call'd [Them,] and [Her Com- 
pany, '\ upon the Approach of which, her Eyes wou'd be still clos'd 
up : For (said she) They say I am a Tell-tale, and therefore they 
will not let me see them. Hereupon she would give a Spring as one 
mounting an Horse, and setling her self in a riding Posture, she 
would in her Chair be agitated, as one sometimes Ambling, some- 
times Trotting, and sometimes Galloping very furiously. In 
these Motions we could not perceive that she was mov'd by the 
Stress of her Feet upon the Ground, for often she touch'd it not. 
When she had rode a Minute or two, she would seem to be at a 
Rendezvous with [Them] that were [Her Company,] and there she 
would maintain a Discourse with them, asking them many Ques- 
tions concerning her self [we gave her none of ours] and have An- 
swers from them which indeed none but herself perceiv'd. Then 
would she return and inform us. How [They] did intend to handle 
her for a Day or two afterwards, and some other things that she 
inquir'd. Her Horse would sometimes throw her with much 
Violence; especially if any one stabb'd or cut the Air under her. 
But she would briskly mount again, and perform her Fantastick 



COTTON MATHER 233 

Journies, mostly in her Chair; but sometimes also she would 
be carry'd from her Chair, out of one Room into another, very 
odly, in the Postures of a riding Woman. At length, she pre- 
tended, that her Horse could ride up the Stairs; and unto admira- 
tion she rode, (that is, was toss'd as one that rode) up the Stairs. 
There then stood open the Study of one belonging to the Family: 
Into which entring, she stood immediately on her Feet, and cry'd 
out, They are gone! They are gone! They say that they cannot, 

God wonH let 'em come here! Adding a Reason for it, which 

the Owner of the Study thought more Kind than True. And she 
presently and perfectly came to her self, so that her whole Dis- 
course and Carriage was alter'd unto the greatest measure of 
Sobriety: and she sate reading of the Bible and other good Books, 
for a good part of the Afternoon. Her Affairs calling her anon 
to go down again, the Dcemons were in a quarter of a Minute as bad 
upon her as before ; and her Horse was waiting for her. Some 
then to see whether there had not been a Fallacy in what had 
newly hapned, resolv'd for to have her up unto the Study, where she 
had been at ease before; but she was then so strangely distorted, 
that it was an extream Difficidty to drag her up stairs. The 
Dcemons would pull her out of the Peoples Hands, and make her 
heavier than perhaps Three of her self. With incredible Toil, 
(the' she kept screaming. They say I must not go in) She was 
puU'd in ; where she was no sooner got, but she could stand on 
her Feet, and with an alter'd Note, say. Now I am well. 

She would be faint at first, and say. She felt something to go out of 
her! (the Noises whereof we sometimes heard, hke those of a. Mouse), 
but in a Minute or two she could apply her self to Devotion, 
and express her self with Discretion, as well as ever in her Life. 

To satisfie some Strangers, the Experiment was divers times with 
the same Success, repeated; until my Lothness to have any thing 
done like making a Charm of a Room, caus'd me to forbid the 
Repetition of it. But enough of this. The Ministers of Boston 
and Charlstown, kept another Day of Prayer with Fasting for 
Goodwin's afBicted Family: After which, the Children had a 
Sensible, but a Gradual Abatement of their Sorrows, until Perfect 
Ease was at length restor'd unto them. The young Woman 
dwelt at my House the rest of the Winter; having by a vertuous 



234 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

Conversation made her self enough welcome to the Family. But 
e'er long, I thought it convenient for me to entertain my Congre- 
gation with a Sermon on the memorable Providences wherein these 
Children had been concern'd [afterwards published.] When I 
had begun to study my Sermon, her Tormentors again seiz'd upon 
her, and manag'd her with a special Design, as was plain, to dis- 
turb me in what I was then about. 

In the worst of her Extravagancies formerly, she was more dutiful 
to my self than I had reason to expect : But now her whole Carriage 
to me was with a Sawciness, which I was not us'd any where to be 
treated withal. She would knock at my Study door, aifirming 
That some below would be glad to see me, tho' there was none that 
ask'd for me : And when I chid her for telling what was false, her 
Answer was Mrs Mather is always glad to see you! She would 
call to me with numberless Impertinencies : And when I came down, 
she would throw things at me, tho' none of them could ever hurt 
me : And she would Hector me at a strange rate for something I 
was doing above, and threaten me with Mischief and Reproach 
that should revenge it. Few Tortures now attended her, but such 
as were provok'd. Her Frolicks were numberless ; if we may call 
them hers. I was in Latin telling some young Gentlemen, That 
if I should bid her look to God, her Eyes would be put out: Upon 
which her Eyes were presently serv'd so. Perceiving that her 
Troublers understood Latin, some Trials were thereupon made 
whether they understood Greek and Hebrew, which it seems, they 
also did; but the Indian Languages they did seem not so well 
to understand. 

When we went unto prayer, the Dcemons would throw her on the 
Floor at the Feet of him that pray'd, where she would whistle, 
and sing, and yell, to drown the Voice of the Prayer, and she would 
fetch Blows with her Fist, and Kicks with her Foot, at the Man 
that Pray'd: But still her Fist and Foot would always recoyl, 
when they came within an Inch or two of him, as if rebounding 
against a Wall : and then she would beg hard of other People to 
strike him, which (you may be sure) not being done, she cry'd 
out, He has wounded me in the Head. But before the Prayer was 
over, she would be laid for dead, wholly senseless, and (unto ap- 
pearance) breathless, with her Belly swell'd like a Drum; And 



COTTON MATHER 235 

sometimes with croaking Noises in tier. Thus wou'd she lie, most 
exactly with the Stiffness and Posture of one that had been two 
Days laid out for dead. Once lying thus, as he that was praying, 
was alluding to the Words of the Canaanites, and saying, Lord, 
have mercy on a Daughter vex^d with a Devil, there came a big, 
but low voice from her, in which the Spectators did not see her 
Mouth to move, There's two or three of us. When Prayer was 
ended, she would revive in a Minute or two, and continue as 
frolicksome as before. 

COTTON MATHER TO GOVERNOR DUDLEY 

Boston, Jan. 20, 1707-8. 
Sir, 
There have appeared such things in your conduct, that a just 
concern for the welfare of your Excellency seems to render it 
necessary, that you should he faithfully advised of them. It was 
not without a design to introduce and exercise this faithfulness, 
that I have in divers letters to your Excellency, sought out accept- 
able words, and acknowledged every thing in the world, that might 
at all dispose you to give me the hearing. In some of those letters, 
I have indeed, with the language of the tribe of A7'a/>/z/a/?, insinuated 
unto you, what those points were, wherein I earnestly desired that 
we might observe and confess you laudable. And I still imagined 
that you would at the same time understand my apprehension of 
there being points, wherein you were too defective. But your 
Excellency compels me to see that the schemes of speaking and 
modes of addressing used among persons of the most polite educa- 
tion, will not answer the expectation I have had of them. You 
will give me leave to write nothing, but in a style, whereof an 
ignorant mob, to whom (as well as the General Assembly) you think 
fit to communicate ^hdit fragments you please of my letters, must 
be competent judges. I must proceed accordingly. And though 
I may complain of it, that the letters, which I have written formerly 
to your Excellency, have been improved unto my damage; yet I 
will now venture another, which if it may be for your service, I 
care not, though it be as much for my detriment as any of the rest, 
and exposed as an appendix unto them. A letter of mine, the read- 



236 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

ing whereof to K. William was (as I have heard) of some small 
service to you in obtaining his royal determination, that you should 
have his commission for the government, brought upon me an 
extreme displeasure in the country. I proposed therein to return 
good for evil, to conquer evil with good, and retaliate (in my own 
way) the venoms which you poured upon me, in your last confer- 
ence with my father, at your leaving New England. And if I 
never saw after this an expression of your gratitude, yet I saw all 
that I proposed. However, to hand such a gross untruth about the 
country, as a report (which I hear some of your counsellors do as 
from you) that at the time of my writing that letter, I wrote another 
quite the contrary, to do you a disservice, is but a very mean re- 
quital. 

When that letter was written, I weakly believed that the wicked 
and horrid things done before the rigJiteous revolution, had been 
heartily repented of; and that the rueful business at New York, 
which many illustrious persons of both houses of parliament often 
called a barbarous murder, and which the king, lords and com- 
mons, by an act of parliament invited all persons to think so, had 
been considered with such a repentance, as might save you and 
your family from any further storms of heaven for the revenging 
of it. I flattered myself with a belief, that you would know no 
interests but those of a glorious Christ, and of his people and king- 
dom, and study what you shotdd render to him for his wonderful 
dispensations towards you, in restoring you to your family, with the 
government of a people, with whom you had been in such evil 
circumstances. The whole country were witnesses to some of my 
poor and plain endeavours, to do the part of a faithful monitor 
unto you, in the portraiture of a good man, at your arrival. Sir, 
had you then received your government with serious and thankful 
considerations, perpetually carried on, how to discharge it as a 
stewardship for the glorious Lord, and how to make this an holy 
and an happy people; and resolution in it to do nothing but what 
should be just and good; how honourably, how comfortably would 
your government have at last expired ! Your late epitaph would 
have been, Them that honour me, I will honour. And in the mean 
time, you would not have known the meaning of a troubled sea. 
You might have maintained a very inoffensive conduct towards the 



i 



COTTON MATHER 237 

gentlemen of whom most of all you have stood in fear: or if they 
had been uneasy, the great God would have accomplished for you 
the word which the Emperor Maximilian wrote upon his tables : 
whereas now, they are the very persons by whose means most of 
all your fear is like to come upon you. It seems as if the glorious 
Lord had a controversy with you. He has raised you up very 
powerful enemies. The best office of love that can be done for 
you, is, to assist you that your ways may please the glorious Lord, 
and remind you wherein you have not pleased him. 

Sir, your snare has been that thing, the hatred whereof is most 
expressly required of the ruler, namely covetousness. When a 
governour shall make his government more an engine to enrich 
himself, than to befriend his country, and shall by the unhallowed 
hunger of riches be prevailed withal to do many wrong, base, 
dishonourable things; it is a covetousness which will shut out 
from the kingdom of heaven; and sometimes the loss of a govern- 
ment on earth also is the punishment of it. Now, Sir, much of 
this has appeared in your administration; and the disposition 
to make haste to be rich has betrayed you unto things, from which 
many have wondered, that the natural goodness, which they thought 
was in your temper, has not restrained you. 



SAMUEL SEWALL 

[Samuel Sewall was born in England in 1652, and died in Massachusetts 
in 1730. His grandparents were residents of America, and his parents had 
been married in this country, though they Uved in England during his early 
boyhood. He was graduated from Harvard in 1671, and became a resident 
fellow of the college and for a time keeper of the college library. He studied 
for the ministry, but finally decided to enter business. During almost all his 
life he was prominent in public affairs. As one of the Salem witch-judges, 
he was vigorous in performing what he thought to be his duty. But when, 
five years later, he had become convinced of his mistake, he caused his famous 
Bill to be read in the public congregation, while he stood with bowed head in 
token of penitence. This action, which for a time cost him the friendship 
of the Mathers and others of his old associates, has done much to heighten 
the respect with which he has been deservedly held by later generations. 

Judge Sewall's voluminous "Diary," which was begun in 1673, when he 
was still a student at Harvard, and continued until 1729, just before his 
death, is one of the most readable and valuable writings of the colonial time. 
It gives a picture of the political and social life of a half century, as it ap- 
peared to an alert man of affairs; and it reveals with perfect frankness the 
personality of the author. Like all works of the kind, it cannot be adequately 
represented by selections. In the following pages the Diary for January, 
1701, contains a sufficient number of consecutive entries to give a slight idea 
of the whole; and the other selections are detached passages of special in- 
terest. Judge Sewall was three times married, and in the intervals of his 
widowhood conducted several unsuccessful courtships. The propriety of 
publishing the parts of the "Diary" in which these are recounted may well 
be questioned, but since they have been made public, a few entries are given 
regarding the most famous of these unfortunate love affairs. In his lifetime 
Judge Sewall published only a few pamphlets, including "The Selling of 
Joseph," said to be the first anti-slavery tract issued in America, and "Phae- 
nomena quaedam Apocalyptica ad Aspectum Novi Orbis configurata." Or, 
some few Lines towards a description of the New Heaven as It makes to 
those who stand upon the New Earth." This last aims to prove from the 
more mystical prophecies of the Bible that America may be the seat of the 
New Jerusalem; and shows something of the minute study of the Scriptures 
which formed one of the author's chief avocations throughout his life. His 
"Diary," his "Letter-Book," and some other manuscripts have been pub- 
lished by the Massachusetts Historical Society. 

The selections from the "Diary" are from the Collections of the Massa- 
chusetts Historical Society, Fifth Series. The passage from "Pha;nomena 
quaedam Apocalyptica" is from the second edition, Boston, 1727.] 

238 



SAMUEL SEWALL 239 

DISCIPLINE AT HARVARD COLLEGE IN 1674 
[From the "Diary"] 

Thomas Sargeant was examined by the Corporation: finally, 
the advice of Mr. Danforth, Mr. Stoughton, Mr. Thatcher, Mr. 
Mather, (then present) was taken. This was his sentence. 

That being convicted of speaking blasphemous words concern- 
ing the H. G. he should be therefore publickly whipped before all 
the Scholars. 2. That he should be suspended as to taking his 
degree of Bachelour (this sentence read before him twice at the 
Prts. before the committee, and in the library i up before execu- 
tion). 3. Sitalonebyhimself in the Hall uncovered at meals, during 
the pleasure of the President and Fellows, and be in all things obe- 
dient, doing what exercise was appointed him by the President, or 
else be finally expelled the Colledge, The first was presently put 
in execution in the Library (Mr. Danforth, Jr. being present) 
before the Scholars. He kneeled down and the instrument Good- 
man Hely attended the President's word as to the performance of 
his part of the work. Prayer was had before and after by the 
President. 

JUDGE SEWALL'S PETITION OF PENITENCE 

[From the "Diary" for 1697] 

Copy of the Bill I put up on the Fast day; giving it to Mr. 
Willard as he pass'd by, and standing up at the reading of it, and 
bowing when finished ; in the Afternoon. 

Samuel Sewall, sensible of the reiterated strokes of God upon 
himself and family; and being sensible, that as to the guilt con- 
tracted upon the opening of the late Commission of Oyer and Ter- 
miner at Salem (to which the order for this Day relates) he is, 
upon many accounts, more concerned than any that he knows of, 
Desires to take the Blame and shame of it, Asking pardon of men, 
And especially desiring prayers that God, who has an Unlimited 
Authority, would pardon that sin and all other his sins ; personal 
and Relative : And according to his infinite Benignity, and Sover- 
eignty, Not Visit the sin of him, or of any other, upon himself 



240 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

or any of his, nor upon the Land: But that He would power- 
fully defend him against all Temptations to Sin, for the future; 
and vouchsafe him the efficacious, saving Conduct of his Word 
and Spirit. 

THE EVENTS OF A MONTH 

[From the "Diary"] 

Jany. i. yf^. Just about Break-a-day Jacob Amsden and 3 
other Trumpeters gave a Blast with the Trumpets on the common 
near Mr. Alford's [in Margin, — Entrance of the i8th Century]. 
Then went to the Green Chamber, and sounded there till about 
sunrise. Bellman said these verses a little before Break-a-day, 
which I printed and gave them, [in Margin — My verses upon 
New Century.] 

Once more ! our God vouchsafe to shine : 
Correct the Coldness of our Clime. 
Make haste with thy Impartial Light, 
And terminate this long dark night. 

Give the poor Indians Eyes to see 
The Light of Life : and set them free. 
So Men shall God in Christ adore, 
And worship Idols vain, no more. 

So Asia, and Africa, 

Eur6pa, with America; 

All Four, in Consort join'd, shall Sing 

New Songs of Praise to Christ our King. 

The Trumpeters cost me five pieces f . Gave to the College- 
Library Dr. Owens two last Volumes on the Hebrews. Sent them 
by Amsden. When was about to part with Dr. Owen, I look'd, to 
read some difficult place; pitch'd on v. nth of the 8th Chapter — 
Know the Lord — I read it over and over one time and another 
and could not be satisfied : At last this came in my mind Know the 
Lord, i.e. Know the Messiah, to whom the word Lord is very 
much appropriated &c. vide locum. Now my mind was at quiet, 
and all seem'd to run smooth. As I hope this is Truth, so I bless 



SAMUEL SEW ALL 24I 

God for this New-years Gift; which I also writt in a spare place, 
and gave it with the Book to the College. 

Satterday, Jany. 4 xf^y. Mrs. Thair is this morn taken with an 
Apoplexy after she had been up and employ'd a while ; was at our 
pump for water. Dies about six in the Evening. 

Between 2 and 3 in the Afternoon Mr. Sergeant, Col. Townsend, 
and I take the Affidavits of Barth. Green, Jno. Allen and Timo. 
Green. Present Mr. T. Brattle, Mr. Mico, and Tuthil notified. 
Mr. Nathl. Oliver, Mr. Hern, Mr. Keeling: Mr. Hirst and my 
Son. I do not remember any more. Mr. Keeling, upon enquiry, 
what he call'd for pen and Ink for, whether twas to take notes or 
no: He own'd it was. Then I said I would also send for one to 
write, naming Mr. Barnard ; so he forebore, and said he would not 
write. 

Jany. 7th. Mrs. Thair is buried: By reason of the Court, 
Stars were seen before we went; but comfortably Light by re- 
mains of the Day. Moon-shine and Snow. 

Bearers, Cook, Sewall, Addington, Oakes, Melyen, Maryon, 
Jno. Buried in the new burying place, close to the Alms-house 
Ground. 

Friday, Jany. 10. yyo^- ^r. John Wait came to me, and earn- 
estly desired me to hasten consummating the Marriage between his 
Bastian and Jane, Mrs. Thair's Negro. This day I waited upon 
the Lt. Governour at Dorchester and spent about two hours in 
looking over and ordering Corporation Bonds, but brought none 
away with me. I shewed Mr. Green's paper, and asked his 
Honor's Leave to use his Name. Shew'd it in the morn to Col. 
Townsend at his own house, and to Mr. Sergeant at his, the night 
before. I had promised that nothing should be tack'd to their 
Names, but they should first have a sight of it. 

Boston, Jany. 13 i|§f 
Madam, — The inclosed piece of Silver, by its bowing, humble form 
bespeaks your Favor for a certain young Man in Town. The Name [Real] 
the Motto [Plus ultra] seem to plead its suitableness for a Present of this 
Nature. Neither need you to except against the quantity: for you have the 
Mends in your own hand ; And by your generous Acceptance, you may make 
both it and the Giver Great. 

Madam, I am 

Your Affect. Friend S. S. 



242 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

Jany. 14th. Having been certified last night about 10 oclock of 
the death of my dear Mother at Newbury, Sam. and I set out with 
John Sewall, the Messenger, for that place. Hired Horses at 
Charlestown: set out about 10. aclock in a great Fogg. Din'd 
at Lewis's with Mr. Gushing of Salisbury. Sam and I kept on in 
Ipswich Rode, John went to accompany Bro. from Salem. About 
Mr. Hubbard's in Ipswich farms, they overtook us. Sam. and I 
lodg'd at Crompton's in Ipswich. Bro. and John stood on for 
Newbury by Moon-shine. Jany. 15th Sam. and I set forward. 
Brother Northend meets us. Visit Aunt Northend, Mr. Payson. 
With Bro. and sister we set forward for Newbury : where we find 
that day appointed for the Funeral: twas a very pleasant Com- 
fortable day. 

Bearers, Jno. Kent of the Island, Lt. Cutting Noyes, Deacon 
William Noyes, Mr. Peter Tappan, Capt. Henry Somersby, Mr. 
Joseph Woolbridge. I foUow'd the Bier single. Then Bro. 
Sewall and sister Jane, Bro. Short and his wife, Bro. Moodey 
and his wife, Bro. Northend and his wife, Bro. Tappan and 
sister Sewall, Sam. and cous. Hannah Tappan. Mr. Payson of 
Rowley, Mr. Clark, Minister of Excester, were there. Col. 
Pierce, Major Noyes &c. Cous. John, Richard and Betty Dummer. 
Went abt. 4. p. m. Nathanl. Bricket taking in hand to fill the 
Grave, I said, Forbear a little, and suffer me to say That amidst 
our bereaving sorrows We have the Comfort of beholding this 
Saint put into the rightfull possession of that Happiness of Living 
desir'd and dying Lamented. She liv'd commendably Four and 
Fifty years with her dear Husband, and my dear Father: And she 
could not well brook the being divided from him at her death; 
which is the cause of our taking leave of her in this place. She 
was a true and constant Lover of Gods Word, Worship, and Saints : 
And she always, with a patient cheerfullness, submitted to the 
divine Decree of providing Bread for her self and others in the 
sweat of her Brows. And now her infinitely Gracious and Bounti- 
ful Master has promoted her to the Honor of higher Employments, 
fully and absolutely discharged from all manner of Toil, and Sweat. 
My honoured and beloved Friends and Neighbours ! My dear 
Mother never thought much of doing the most frequent and homely 
ofl5ces of Love for me; and lavish'd away many Thousands of 



SAMUEL SEW ALL 



243 



Words upon me, before I could return one word in Answer: And 
therefore I ask and hope that none will be offended that I have 
now ventured to speak one word in her behalf; when shee her 
self is become speechless. Made a Motion with my hand for the 
filling of the Grave. Note, I could hardly speak for passi(jn and 
Tears. Mr. Tappan pray'd with us in the evening. I lodg'd 
at sister Gerrishes with Joseph. Bro. and Sam. at Br. Tappans. 
Jany. i6th. The two Brothers and four sisters being together, 
we took Leave by singing of the goth Psalm, from the 8th to the 
15th verse inclusively. Mr. Brown the Scholar, was present. Set 
out abt. 1 1 for Ipswich, got time enough to hear Mr. Rogers preach 
the Lecture from Luke i. 76. about ministerial preparation for 
Christ. Sung the nine first verses of the 132. Psalm. Mr. Rogers 
prai'd for the prisoner of death, the Newbury woman who was there 
in her chains. This is the last Sermon preached in the old Meeting- 
house. Eat Roost Fowl at Crompton's. Delivered a Letter to 
the Widow Hale; got very comfortably over the Ferry to Brothers, 
whether Mr. Hirst quickly came to welcome us and invite us to 
dine or breakfast next day, which we did, the morning being cold : 
Visited Madam Bradstreet and Major Brown, and told them of 
the death of their fellow-passenger. Rec'd me very courteously. 
Took horse about one p. m. Baited at Lewis's; Stop'd at Govr. 
Usher's to pay him a visit. He and his Lady being from home, 
we pass'd on, and got to Charlestown about Sun-set, very com- 
fortably. Found all well at home through the Goodness of 
God. 

Lords-Day, Jany. 29th. -ff^y. Ipswich people Meet the first 
time in their New-Meeting-House, as Deacon Knowlton informs 
me at Cousin Savages Meeting Jany. 22th. 

Jany. 29th yf^y. Sam and I went to Dedham Lecture, and 
heard Mr. Belchar preach excellently from Mat. 9. 12. Dined 
at said Belchars. Gave him and .some young men with him 
my New-years verses: He read them and said Amen. Said 
twas a good Morning's Work. 

Jany. 30. Mr. Willard preaches from Eccles. 9. 2. — he that 
sweareth and he that feareth an Oath. Spoke very closely against 
the many ways of Swearing amiss. Great Storm. 



244 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

A NEIGHBORLY ADMONITION 

[From the "Diary" for 1701] 

Tuesday, June loth. Having last night heard that Josiah 
Willard had cut off his hair (a very full head of hair) and put on 
a Wigg, I went to him this morning. Told his Mother what I came 
about, and she call'd him. I enquired of him what Extremity had 
forced him to put off his own hair, and put on a Wigg? He 
answered, none at all. But said that his Hair was streight, and 
that it parted behinde. Seem'd to argue that men might as well 
shave their hair off their head, as off their face. I answered men 
were men before they had hair on their faces, (half of mankind 
have never any). God seems to have ordain'd our Hair as a Test, 
to see whether we can bring our minds to be content to be at his 
finding: or whether we would be our own Carvers, Lords, and 
come no more at Him. If disliked our Skin, or Nails; 'tis no 
thanks to us, that for all that, we cut them not off: Pain and 
danger restrain us. Your Calling is to teach men self Denial. 
Twill be displeasing and burdensom to good men: And they 
that care not what men think of them care not what God thinks 
of them. Father, Bro. Simon, Mr. Pemberton, Mr. Wigglesworth, 
Oakes, Noyes (Oliver), Brattle of Cambridge their example. 
Allow me to be so far a Censor Morum for this end of the Town. 
Pray'd him to read the Tenth Chapter of the Third book of 
Calvins Institutions. I read it this morning in course, not of 
choice. Told him that it was condemn'd by a Meeting of Minis- 
ters at Northampton in Mr. Stoddards house, when the said 
Josiah was there. Told him of the Solemnity of the Covenant 
which he and I had lately enterd into, which put me upon dis- 
coursing to him. He seem'd to say would leave off his Wigg 
when his hair was grown. I spake to his Father of it a day or two 
after: He thank 'd me that had discoursed his Son, and told 
me that when his hair was grown to cover his ears, he promis'd 
to leave off his Wigg. If he had known of it, would have forbid- 
den him. His Mother heard him talk of it ; but was afraid positively 
to forbid him; lest he should do it, and so be more faulty. 



SAMUEL SEWALL 245 

MEDITATION AND PRAYER 

[From the "Diary"] 

Febr, 28. lyrf Midweek: This being my Marriage-day, and 
having now liv'd in a married Estate Five and Thirty years, not- 
withstanding my many Sins and Temptations, I spent some time 
in Meditation and Prayer in the Castle-Chamber. I was much 
encouraged by reading in Course the 3 2d. Psalm at family prayer 
without any foresight of mine. And when I came to pray I was 
much heartened to ask Forgiveness of God for my multiplied 
Transgressions, seeing He had directed Peter a sinfull Mortal 
to forgive 70. times 7. I hope God will forgive and do as the 
matter may require. While I was thus employ'd Maxwell warned 
me to Council; but I ventur'd to keep in my Closet; and I un- 
derstand by the Majr. Genl. they did nothing in Council. Majr. 
Genl. and his Lady visited us just before the Funeral. Bearers 
of Mrs. Allen were, Elisha Hutchinson, Saml. Sewall ; Giles Dyer, 
Saml. Checkley; John Cutler, Saml. Phillips: Scarves and 
Gloves. Whiles I was Spending a little Fewel in privat Devotion 
I was supply 'd with a great Penni worth of Bast by Bastian, and 
a Load of black Oak by Nathl. Sparhawk. 

A LOVE-LETTER AND SOME VISITS OF COURTSHIP 

[From the "Diary" for 1720] 

[I] 

8r. nth. I writ a few Lines to Madam Winthrop to this pur- 
pose: "Madam, These wait on you with Mr. Mayhew's Sermon, 
and Account of the state of the Indians on Martha's Vinyard. 
I thank you for your Unmerited Favours of yesterday; and hope 
to have the Happiness of Waiting on you to-morrow before Eight 
a-clock after Noon. I pray God to keep you, and give you a joy- 
full entrance upon the Two Hundred and twenty ninth year of 
Christopher Columbus his Discovery; and take Leave, who am. 
Madam, your humble Servt. S. S. 

Sent this by Deacon Green, who deliver'd it to Sarah Chicker- 
ing, her Mistress not being at home. 



246 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

Sr. 12. Give Mr. Whittemore and Willard their Oath to Dr. 
Mather's Inventory. Visit Mr. Cooper. Go to the Meeting at 
the Wido Enion's: Mr. Manly pray'd, I read half Mr. Henry's 12th 
Chapter of the L. Supper. Sung i., 2, 3, 4, 5, 10, and 12th 
Verses of the 30th Psalm. Bro. Franklin concluded with Prayer. 
At Madm. Winthrop's Steps I took leave of Capt Hill, &c. 

^Irs. Anne Cotton came to door (twas before 8.) said Madam 
Winthrop was within, directed me into the little Room, where she 
was full of work behind a Stand; Mrs. Cotton came in and stood. 
]\Iadam Winthrop pointed to her to set me a Chair. Madam 
Winthrop's Coftntcnance was much changed from what 'twas on 
Monday, look'd dark and lowering. At last, the work, (black 
stuff or Silk) was taken away, I got my Chair in place, had some 
Converse, but very Cold and indifferent to what 'twas before. 
Ask'd her to acquit me of Rudeness if I drew off her Glove. En- 
quiring the reason, I told her twas great odds between handling 
a dead Goat, and a living Lady. Got it off. I told her I had one 
Petition to ask of her, that was, that she would take off the Nega- 
tive she laid on me the third of October; She readily answer'd 
she could not, and enlarg'd upon it ; She told me of it so soon as 
she could; could not leave her house, children, neighbours, busi- 
ness. I told her she might do some Good to help and support me. 
Mentioning Mrs. Gookin, Nath, the \\adow Weld was spoken of; 
said I had visited Mrs. Denison. I told her Yes ! Afterward I 
said, If after a tirst and second Vagary she would Accept of me 
returning. Her Victorious Kindness and Good Will would be very 
Obliging. She thank 'd me for my Book, (Mr. ]\Iayhew's Sermon), 
But said not a word of the Letter. When she insisted on the 
Negative, I pray'd there might be no more Thunder and Lighten- 
ing, I should not sleep all night. I gave her Dr. Preston, The 
Church's Marriage and the Church's Carriage, which cost me 
6s. at the Sale. The door standing open, ^Ir. Airs came in, 
hung up his Hat, and sat down. After awhile, Madam Winthrop 
moving , he went out. Jno. Eyre look'd in, I said How do ye, or, 
your servant oSIr. Eyre: but heard no word from him. Sarah 
fill'd a Glass of Wine, she drank to me, I to her. She sent Juno 
home with me with a good Lantern, I gave her 6d. and bid her 
thank her Mistress. In some of our Discourse, I told her I had 



SAMUEL SEW ALL 247 

rather go to the Stone-House adjoining to her, than to come to 
her against her mind. Told her the reason why I came every other 
night was lest I should drink too deep draughts of Pleasure. 
She had talk'd of Canary, her Kisses were to me better than the 
best Canary. Explain'd the expression Concerning Columbus. 

[11] 

8r. 21 Friday, My Son, the Minister, came to me p.m. by ap- 
pointment and we pray one for another in the Old Chamber; 
more especially respecting my Courtship. About 6. a-clock I go 
to Madam Winthrop's; Sarah told me her Mistress was gon out, 
but did not tell me whither she went. She presently ordcr'd me 
a Fire; so I v/ent in, having Dr. Sibb's Bowels with me to read. 
I read the two first Sermons, still no body came in : at last about 
9. a-clock Mr. Jno. Eyre came in; I took the opportunity to say 
to him as I had done to Mrs. Noyes before, that I hoped my 
Visiting his Mother would not be disagreeable to him ; He answered 
me with much Respect. When twas after 9. a-clock He of him- 
self said he would go and call her, she was but at one of his 
Brothers: A while after I heard Madam Winthrop's voice, enquir- 
ing somthing about John. After a good while and Clapping 
the Garden door twice or thrice, she came in. I mention'd 
somthing of the lateness ; she banter'd me, and said I was later. 
She receiv'd me Courteously. I ask'd when our proceedings 
should be made publick : She said They were like to be no more 
publlck than they were already. Offcr'd me no Wine that I 
remember. I rose up at 11 a-clock to come away, saying I 
would put on my Coat, She offcr'd not to help me. I pray'd 
her that Juno might light me home, she open'd the Shutter, and 
said twas pretty light abroad; Juno was weary and gon to bed. 
So I came home by Star-light as well as I could. At my first 
coming in, I gave Sarah five Shillings. I writ Mr. Eyre his name 
in his Book with the date Octobr. 21, 1720. It cost me 8s. 
Jehovah jireh ! Madam told me she had visited M. Mico, Wen- 
dell, and Wm. Clark of the South. 

Octobr. 22. Daughter Cooper visited me before my going out 
of Town, staid till about Sun set. I brought her going near as 



248 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

far as the Orange Tree. Coming back, near Leg's Corner, Little 
David Jeffries saw me, and looking upon me very lovingly, ask'd 
me if I was going to see his Grandmother ? I said, Not to-night. 
Gave him a peny, and bid him present my Service to his Grand- 
mother. 

Octobr. 24. I went in the Hackny Coach through the Com- 
mon, stop'd at Madam Winthrop's (had told her I would take 
my departure from thence). Sarah came to the door with Katee 
in her Arms: but I did not think to take notice of the Child. 
Call'd her Mistress. I told her, being encourag'd by David 
Jeffries loving eyes, and sweet Words, I was come to enquire 
whether she could find in her heart to leave that House and 
Neighbourhood, and go and dwell with me at the South-end; 
I think she said softly. Not yet. I told her It did not ly in my 
Lands to keep a Coach. If I should, I should be in danger to 
be brought to keep company with her Neighbour Brooker, (he 
was a little before sent to prison for Debt). Told her I had 
an Antipathy against those who would pretend to give themselves ; 
but nothing of their Estate. I would a proportion of my Estate 
with my self. And I supposed she would do so. As to a Perriwig, 
My best and greatest Friend, I could not possibly have a greater, 
began to find me with Hair before I was born, and had continued 
to do so ever since; and I could not find in my heart to go to 
another. She commended the book I gave her, Dr. Preston, the 
Church Marriage; quoted him saying 'twas inconvenient keep- 
ing out of a Fashion commonly used. I said the Time and Tide 
did circumscribe my Visit. She gave me a Dram of Black-Cherry 
Brandy, and gave me a lump of the Sugar that was in it. She 
wish'd me a good Journy. I pray'd God to keep her, and came 
away. Had a very pleasant Journy to Salem. 

[Ill] 

Monday, Novr. 7th. My Son pray'd in the Old Chamber. 
Our time had been taken up by Son and Daughter Cooper's 
Visit; so that I only read the 130th and 143. Psalm. Twas on 
the Account of my Courtship. I went to Mad. Winthrop ; found 
her rocking her little Katee in the Cradle. I excus'd my Coming 



1 



SAMUEL SEW ALL 249 

SO late (near Eight). She set me an arm'd Chair and Cusheon; 
and so the Cradle was between her arm'd Chair and mine. Gave 
her the remnant of my Almonds ; She did not eat of them as be- 
fore; but laid them away; I said I came to enquire whether she 
had alter'd her mind since Friday, or remained of the same mind 
still. She said, Thereabouts. I told her I loved her, and was so 
fond as to think that she loved me: She said she had a great 
respect for me. I told her, I had made her an offer, without 
asking any advice; she had so many to advise with, that twas 
a hindrance. The Fire was come to one short Brand besides 
the Block, which Brand was set up in end ; at last it fell to pieces, 
and no Recruit was made: She gave me a Glass of Wine. I 
think I repeated again that I would go home and bewail my 
Rashness in making more haste than good Speed. I would en- 
deavour to contain myself, and not go on to sollicit her to do 
that which she could not Consent to. Took leave of her. As 
came down the steps she bid me have a Care. Treated me 
Courteously. Told her she had enter'd the 4th year of her 
Widowhood. I had given her the News-Letter before: I did 
not bid her draw off her Glove as sometime I had done. Her 
DresS was not so clean as somtime it had been. Jehovah 
jireh ! 

Midweek, Qr. 9th. Dine at Bro. Stoddard's: were so kind as 
to enquire of me if they should invite M'm Winthrop; I answer'd 
No. 



SCRIPTURAL PROPHECIES CONCERNING AMERICA 

[From " Phcsnomena qucedam Apocalyptica," etc.] 

Some judicious and learned Divines have conjectured that 
America is prophesied of in the thirty seventh of Ezekiel, under the 
denomination of a Valley. Certainly, no part of the habitable 
World, can shew more Bones; or bones more dry, than these 
vast Regions do. Mr. Downam thinks that Mr. Eliot^s taking 
his Text from thence when he first preached to the Indians, has 
its weight. His Appendix to the Letters from New-England, is 
well worth the reading. The Prophet is said to be carried out in 



250 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

the spirit : and for ought I know, he might be carried beyond the 
limits of the then known World. 

Dan. II. 45. And he shall plant the tabernacles of his palace 
between the seas in the glorious holy Mountain; yet he shall come 
to his end, and, none shall help him. 

The complexion of this portion of Scripture is such, as con- 
strains me to imagin, that the place designed by the holy Spirit, 
is no other than America. Every word almost has an emphasis 
carrying in it, to me, the perswasion of this sence. They who 
remove from one Land to another, there to dwell; that settlement 
of theirs is call'd a Plantation. Especially, when a Land, before 
rude and unfurnish'd, is by the New-comers replenished with 
usefuU Arts, Vegetables, Animals. Thus when in the year 1492. 
Christopher Columbus had opened the way, the Spaniards planted 
themselves in the spatious Regions of America; and, too much, 
planted Antichristianisme in the room of Heathenisme. 

Tabernacles] So called from the moveableness of their con- 
dition, and shortness of their continuance. As Tents, they were 
lately set up; and, notwithstanding all their Praemunitions, so 
far as they are Antichristian, they shall be taken down before it 
be long, by the immovable Counsel and Providence of God. 

Palace] The Extent, Riches, and Pomp of the Mexican, and 
Peruvian Empires are very great : Insomuch that when the Church 
of Rome met with Losses in Europe, they pleased themselves with 
their Gains in the New-World. They glory in the many Churches 
they have planted there; which are, they say, without all mixture 
of Hereticks. If with Mr. Nicholas Fuller, Miscel. sacr. lib. 5. 
cap. 18. we take this word to signifie Equile Regium, Horse- 
Guards; It vsdll still look upon America. The Reputation the 
Spaniards Horses gave them, did much contribute towards their 
prodigious Conquests. And after above threescore dangerous 
battels, Mexico was at last taken upon Hippolytus day; August 
13, 1521. Since which time, Horses, which were never seen there 
before, are one of the four Fair Things of that Citie. 

Between the Seas] The middle Provinces of the New- World, 
governed by the Vice-Roys of Mexico, and Peru, are known to 
lye between two of the most wide, and famous Seas of the whole 
World. The American Isthmus; respecting its own narrowness, 



SAMUEL SEW ALL 25 1 

and the bold approaches of the huge Ocean on either side, does 
command the title oiNon such. America it self, and they who pass 
thither, are so much concerned with the Sea, that Peter Martyr 
stiled his History Decads of the Ocean. And in the general History 
of Spain, part of the King's Title is, The Islands, and firm Land 
of the Ocean Sea. Grimeston, p. 1234. 



EBENEZER COOK 

[In 1708 there was published in London a pamphlet containing a poem of 
twenty-one pages with the title "The Sot-Weed Factor: Or, a Voyage to 
Maryland. A Satyr. In which is describ'd, The Laws, Government, 
Courts and Constitutions of the Country; and also the Buildings, Feasts, 
Frolicks, Entertainments and Drunken Humours of the Inhabitants of that 
Part of America. In Burlesque Verse. By Eben. Cook, Gent." Nothing 
is known of Eben. Cook, Gent. In 1730 there was published in Annapolis 
a political satire entitled "Sotweed Redivivus: or the Planters Looking- 
Glass. In Burlesque Verse. Calculated for the Meridian of Maryland. By 
E. C. Gent." This is in the same metrical form as "The Sot-Weed Factor," 
and purports to be by the same author; but from the character and quality 
of the poem it seems rather more probable that some other person adopted 
this device for the expression of his views. The latest editor of "The Sot- 
Weed Factor" also ascribes to Ebenezer Cook an elegy published in an 
Annapolis newspaper in 1728. There seems to be no positive evidence, 
however, that the author was a permanent resident of Maryland, or indeed 
that he stayed in the colony longer than the hero of his poem is represented 
as doing. Nevertheless, "The Sot-Weed Factor" has come to be regarded 
as one of the more curious bits of early Americana, and can hardly be 
ignored in a collection like the present. If it be considered as an American 
production, it shows the greater development of broad humor in the South 
as compared with New England ; and its form, evidently influenced by the 
school of Butler, illustrates the tendency in the South to follow at a little 
distance the literary fashions prevailing in England. 

The selections are taken from the edition by Bernard C. Steiner, published 
by the Maryland Historical Society in 1900.] 



THE FACTOR'S ADVENTURES 

[From "The Sot-Weed Factor"] 

I thought it proper to provide, 
A Lodging for myself and Guide, 
So to our Inn we march'd away, 
Which at a Httle distance lay; 
Where all things were in such Confusion, 
I thought the World at its conclusion: 
252 



EBENEZER COOK 253 

A Herd of Planters on the ground, 

O'er-whelm'd with Punch, dead drunk we found: 

Others were fighting and contending. 

Some burnt their Cloaths to save the mending. 

A few whose Heads by frequent use, 

Could better bare the potent Juice, 

Gravely debated State Affairs. 

Whilst I most nimbly trip'd up Stairs; 

Leaving my Friend discoursing oddly. 

And mixing things Prophane and Godly: 

Just then beginning to be Drunk, 

As from the Company I slunk, 

To every Room and Nook I crept. 

In hopes I might have somewhere slept; 

But all the bedding was possest 

By one or other drunken Guest: 

But after looking long about, 

I found an antient Corn-loft out. 

Glad that I might in quiet sleep. 

And there my bones unfractur'd keep. 

I lay'd me down secure from Fray, 

And soundly snoar'd till break of Day; 

When waking fresh I sat upright. 

And found my Shoes were vanish 'd quite; 

Hat, Wig, and Stockings, all were fled 

From this extended Indian Bed: 

Vext at the Loss of Goods and Chattel, 

I swore Fd give the Rascal battel, 

Who had abus'd me in this sort, 

And Merchant Stranger made his Sport. 

I furiously descended Ladder; 

No Hare in March was ever madder: 

In vain I search 'd for my Apparel, 

And did with Oast and Servants Quarrel; 

For one whose Mind did much aspire 

To ^ Mischief, threw them in the Fire ; 

' 'Tis the Custom of the Planters, to throw their own, or any other Person's 
Hat, Wig, Shooes or Stockings in the Fire. 



254 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

Equipt with neither Hat nor Shooe, 

I did my coming hither rue, 

And doubtful thought what I should do: 

Then looking round, I saw my Friend 

Lie naked on a Tables end; 

A Sight so dismal to behold. 

One wou'd have judg'd him dead and cold; 

When wringing of his bloody Nose, 

By fighting got we may suppose; 

I found him not so fast asleep, 

Might give his Friends a cause to weep: 

Rise, ^Oronooko, rise, said I, 

And from this Hell and Bedlam fly. 

My Guide starts up, and in amaze. 

With blood-shot Eyes did round him gaze; 

At length with many a sigh and groan, 

He went in search of aged Rhoan; 

But Rhoan, tho' seldom us'd to faulter, 

Had fairly this time slipt his Halter; 

And not content all Night to stay, 

Ty'd up from Fodder, ran away: 

After my Guide to ketch him ran, 

And so I lost both Horse and Man; 

Which Disappointment, tho' so great, 

Did only Mirth and Jests create: 

Till one more Civil than the rest, 

In Conversation for the best. 

Observing that for want of Rhoan, 

I should be left to walk alone; 

Most readily did me intreat. 

To take a Bottle at his Seat; 

A Favour at that time so great, 

I blest my kind propitious Fate; 

And finding soon a fresh supply 

Of Cloaths from Stoar-house kept hard by, 

I mounted streight on such a Steed, 

* Planters are usually call'd by the Name of Oronooko, from their Planting 
Oronooko-Tobacco. 



EBENEZER COOK 255 

Did rather curb, than whipping need; 
And straining at the usual rate, 
With spur of Punch which lay in Pate, 
E'er long we lighted at the Gate: 
Where in an antient Cedar House, 
Dwelt my new Friend, a ^ Cockerouse; 
Whose Fabrick," tho' 'twas built of Wood, 
Had many Springs and Winters stood; 
When Sturdy Oaks, and lofty Pines 
Were level'd with ^ Musmelion Vines, 
And Plants eradicated were, 
By Hurricanes into the air; 
There with good Punch and apple Juice, 
We spent our Hours without abuse: 
Till Midnight in her sable Vest, 
Persuaded Gods and Men to rest; 
And with a pleasing kind surprize, 
Indulg'd soft Slumbers to my Eyes. 
Fierce ^ Mthon courser of the Sun 
Had half his Race exactly run; 
And breath 'd on me a fiery Ray, 
Darting hot Beams the following Day, 
When snug in Blanket white I lay: 
But Heat and * Chinees rais'd the Sinner, 
Most opportunely to his Dinner; 
Wild Fowl and Fish delicious Meats, 
As good as Neptune^ s Doxy eats, 
Began our Hospitable Treat; 
Fat Venson follow'd in the rear, 
And Turkies wild Luxurious Chear: 
But what the Feast did most commend. 
Was hearty welcom from my Friend. 

• Cockerouse, is a Man of Quality. 

' Musmilleon Vines are what we call Muskmilleon Plants. 

• ^thon is one of the Poetical Horses of the Sun. 

• Chinees are a sort of vermin like our Bugs in England. 



256 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

A BARGAIN WITH A QUAKER 

[From "The Sot-Weed Factor"] 

I then began to think with Care, 
How I might sell my British Ware, 
That with my Freight I might comply, 
Did on my Charter party lie: 
To this intent, with Guide before, 
I tript it to the Eastern Shoar; 
While riding near a Sandy Bay, 
I met a Quaker, Yea and Nay; 
A Pious Conscientious Rogue, 
As e'er woar Bonnet or a Brogue, 
Who neither Swore nor kept his Word, 
But cheated in the Fear of God; 
And when his Debts he would not pay. 
By Light within he ran away. 
With this sly Zealot soon I struck 
A Bargain for my English Truck, 
Agreeing for ten thousand weight, 
Of Sot-weed good and fit for freight. 
Broad Oronooko bright and sound. 
The growth and product of his ground; 
In Cask that should contain compleat. 
Five hundred of Tobacco neat. 
The Contract thus betwixt us made, 
Not well acquainted with the Trade, 
My Goods I trusted to the Cheat, 
Whose crop was then aboard the Fleet; 
And going to receive my own, 
I found the Bird was newly flown: 
Cursing this execrable Slave, 
This damn'd pretended Godly Knave; 
On due Revenge and Justice bent, 
I instantly to Counsel went. 
Unto an ambodexter ^ Quack, 
Who learnedly had got the knack 
* This Fellow was an Apothecary, and turn'd an Attorney at Law. 



EBENEZER COOK 257 

Of giving Glisters, making Pills, 

Of filling Bonds, and forging Wills; 

And with a stock of Impudence, 

Supply 'd his want of Wit and Sense; 

With Looks demure, amazing People, 

No wiser than a Daw in Steeple; 

My Anger flushing in my Face, 

I stated the preceeding Case: 

And of my Money was so lavish, 

That he'd have poyson'd half the Parish, 

And hang'd his Father on a Tree, 

For such another tempting Fee; 

Smiling, said he, the Cause is clear, 

I'll manage him you need not fear; 

The Case is judg'd, good Sir, but look 

In Galen, No — in my Lord Cook, 

I vow to God I was mistook: 

I'll take out a Provincial Writ, 

And Trounce him for his Knavish Wit; 

Upon my Life we'll win the Cause, 

With all the ease I cure the Yaivs: 

Resolv'd to plague the holy Brother, 

I set one Rogue to catch another; 

To try the Cause then fully bent, 

Up to Annapolis I went, 

A City Situate on a Plain, 

Where scarce a House will keep out Rain; 

The Buildings fram'd with Cyprus rare, 

Resembles much our Southwark Fair: 

But Stranger here will scarcely meet 

With Market-place, Exchange, or Street; 

And if the Truth I may report, 

'Tis not so large as Tottenham Court. 

St. Mary^s once was in repute. 

Now here the Judges try the Suit, 

And Lawyers twice a Year dispute. 

As oft the Bench most gravely meet, 

Some to get Drunk, and some to eat, 



258 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

A swinging share of Country Treat. 
But as for Justice right or wrong, 
Not one amongst the numerous throng, 
Knows what they mean, or has the Heart, 
To give his Verdict on a Stranger's part: 
Now Court being call'd by beat of Drum, 
The Judges left their Punch and Rum, 
When Pettifogger Doctor draws. 
His Paper forth, and opens Cause: 
And least I should the better get, 
Brib'd Quack supprest his Knavish Wit. 

The Byast Court without delay, 
Adjudg'd my Debt in Country Pay; 
In^ Pipe Staves, Corn, or Flesh of Boar, 
Rare Cargo for the English Shoar: 
Raging with Grief, full speed I ran. 
To joyn the Fleet at^ Kicketan; 
Embarqu'd and waiting for a Wind, 
I left this dreadful Curse behind. 

May Canniballs transported o'er the Sea 
Prey on these Slaves, as they have done on me; 
May never Merchant's, trading Sails explore 
This Cruel, this Inhospitable Shoar; 
But left abandon'd by the World to starve, 
May they sustain the Fate they well deserve: 
May they turn Savage, or as Indians Wild, 
From Trade, Converse, and Happiness exil'd; 
Recreant to Heaven, may they adore the Sun, 
And into Pagan Superstitions run 

For Vengeance ripe 

May Wrath Divine then lay those Regions wast 
Where no Man's' Faithful, nor a Woman Chast. 

' There is a Law in this Country, the Plantiff may pay his Debt in Country 
pay, which consists in the produce of his Plantation. 

*The homeward bound Fleet meets here. 

* The Author does not intend by this, any of the English Gentlemen resident 
there. 



WILLIAM BYRD 

[William Byrd, of Westover, was a type of the wealthy and cultured Vir- 
ginia gentleman who wrote as an avocation. He was born in Virginia in 
1674, and educated in England and on the Continent. Before he returned 
to America, he studied law at the Middle Temple, and was called to the Bar, 
and also became a member of the Ro^'al Society. At home he devoted him- 
self to managing the estate which his father had built up, to the performance of 
many public duties, to the acquiring of a large library, and to the social and 
intellectual enjoyments available among the aristocracy of Virginia in their 
best days. One of his public employments was as member of the Commis- 
sion which in 1728 established the boundary line between Virginia and North 
Carolina. An elaboration of the journal kept during this survey is the 
chief of his writings. 

Colonel Byrd's writings were not published during his lifetime, but were 
carefully copied under his direction and bound into a manuscript volume 
for preservation in his family. The chief papers in this volume are, besides 
"The History of the Dividing Line," already referred to, "A Journey to 
the Land of Eden," "A Progress to the Mines," and "An Essay on Bulk 
Tobacco." The authorship of the last-named essay is questioned by Byrd's 
latest editor. The other three papers are accounts of expeditions in the less 
settled parts of the colony. The observations which the author records 
show his wide interest, which embraced not only matters of practical eco- 
nomic importance, but curiosities in natural history, medicine, etc.; and 
allusions to his reading are an interesting revelation of the culture of his day. 
The papers are written in a style that makes even the narration of common- 
place facts interesting, and they abound in a wit that, when it avoids the 
loose conventional jests that were the fashion, is sprightly and genuine. 

The chief of the "Westover Manuscripts," as they have been called from 
the family residence where they were preserved, have been printed in 1841, 
1866, and 1901. The following selections are from the latest edition, by 
John Spencer Bassett.] 



THE BEGINNING OF THE SURVEY 

[From "The History of the Dividing Line"] 

[March] 7. This Morning the Surveyors began to run the 
Dividing line from the Cedar-Post we had driven into the Sand, 
allowing near 3 Degrees for the Variation. Without making this 

259 



26o EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

Just allowance, we should not have obeyd his Majesty's order 
in running a Due West Line. It seems the former Commissioners 
had not been so exact, which gave our Friends of Carolina but 
too just an Exception to their Proceedings. 

The Line cut Dosier's Island, consisting only of a Flat Sand, 
with here and there an humble Shrub growing upon it. From 
thence it crost over a narrow Arm of the Sound into Knot's Island, 
and there Split a Plantation belonging to William Harding. 

The Day being far spent, we encampt in this Man's Pasture, 
tho' it lay very low, and the Season now inclin'd People to Aguish 
Distempers. He suflfered us to cut Cedar-Branches for our En- 
closure, and other Wood for Firing, to correct the moist Air and 
drive away the Damps. Our Landlady, in the Days of her Youth, 
it seems, had been a Laundress in the Temple, and talkt over her 
Adventures in that Station, with as much pleasure as an Old 
Soldier talks over his Battles and Distempers, and I believe with 
as many Additions to the Truth. 

The Soil is good in many Places of this Island, and the Extent 
of it pretty large. It lyes in the form of a Wedge : The South End 
of it is Several Miles over, but towards the North it Sharpens into 
a Point. It is a Plentiful Place for Stock, by reason of the wide 
Marshes adjacent to it, and because of its warm Situation. But 
the Inhabitants pay a little dear for this Convenience, by losing 
as much Blood in the Summer Season by the infinite Number 
of Mosquetas, as all their Beef and Pork can recruit in the Winter. 

The Sheep are as large as in Lincolnshire, because they are 
never pincht by cold or Hunger. The whole Island was hitherto 
reckon'd to lye in Virginia, but now our Line has given the greater 
Part of it to Carolina. The Principal Freeholder here is Mr. 
White, who keeps open House for all Travellers, that either Debt 
or Shipwreck happens to cast in his way. 

8. By break of Day we sent away our Largest Periauga, with the 
Baggage, round the South end of Knot's Island, with Orders to 
the Men to wait for us in the Mouth of North River. Soon after, 
we embarkt ourselves on board the smaller Vessel, with Intent, 
if possible, to find a Passage round the North End of the Island. 

We found this Navigation very difficult, by reason of the Con- 
tinued Shoals, and often stuck fast aground; for tho' the Sound 



WILLIAM BYRD 26 1 

spreads many miles, yet it is in most places extremely Shallow, 
and requires a Skilful Pilot to Steer even a Canoe safe over it. 
It was almost as hard to keep our Temper as to keep the Channel, 
in this provoking Situation. But the most impatient amongst us 
strokt down their Choler and swallow'd their curses, lest, if they 
suffer'd them to break out, they might sound like Complaining, 
which was expressly forbid, as the first Step to Sedition. 

At a distance we descry'd Several Islands to the Northward of 
us, the largest of which goes by the Name of Cedar Island. Our 
periauga stuck so often that we had a fair chance to be benighted 
in this wide Water, which must certainly have been our Fate, had 
we not luckily spied a Canoe that was giving a Fortune-teller a 
cast from Princess Anne County over to North Carolina. But, 
as conjurers are Sometimes mistaken, the Man mistrusted we were 
Officers of Justice in pursuit of a Young Wench he had carry'd 
off along with him. We gave the Canoe Chase for more than an 
Hour and when we came up with her, threatend to make them all 
prisoners unless they would direct us into the right Channel. 

By the Pilotage of these People we row'd up an Arm of the 
Sound, call'd the Back-Bay, till we came to the Head of it. There 
we were stoppt by a miry Pocoson full half a Mile in Breadth, thro' 
which we were obhg'd to daggle on foot, plungeing now and then, 
tho' we pickt our Way, up to the Knees in Mud. At the End of 
this Charming walk we gain'd the Terra Firma of Princess Anne 
County. In that Dirty Condition we were afterwards oblig'd 
to foot it two Miles, as far as John Heath's Plantation, where we 
expected to meet the Surveyors & the men who waited upon them. 

THE GREAT DISMAL SWAMP 

[From "The History of the Dividing Line"] 

Our Landlord had a tolerable good House and Clean Furniture, 
and yet we cou'd not be tempted to lodge in it. We chose rather 
to lye in the open Field, for fear of growing too tender. A clear 
Sky, spangled with Stars, was our Canopy, which being the last 
thing we saw before we fell asleep, gave us Magnificent Dreams. 
The Truth of it is, we took so much pleasure in that 'natural kind 
of Lodging, that I think at the foot of the Account Mankind are 



262 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

great Losers by the Luxury of Feather-Beds and warm apart- 
ments. 

The curiosity of beholding so new and withal so Sweet a Method 
of encamping, brought one of the Senators of N Carolina to make 
us a Midnight Visit. But he was so very Clamorous in his Com- 
mendations of it, that the Centinel, not seeing his Quality, either 
thro' his habit or Behaviour, had like to have treated him roughly. 

After excusing the Unseasonableness of his Visit, and letting 
us know he was a Parliament Man, he swore he was so taken with 
our Lodging, that he would set Fire to his House as soon as he got 
Home, and teach his Wife and Children to lie, like us, in the open 
held. 

13. Early this Morning our Chaplain repair'd to us with the 
Men we had left at Mr. Wilson's. We had sent for them the 
Evening before to relieve those who had the Labour Oar from 
Corotuck-Inlet. But to our great surprise, they petition'd not 
to be reliev'd, hoping to gain immortal Reputation by being 
the first of Mankind that Ventur'd thro' the great Dismal. But 
the rest being equally Ambitious of the same Honour, it was but 
fair to decide their Pretensions by Lot. After Fortune had declar'd 
herself, those which she had excluded offer'd Money to the Happy 
Persons to go in their Stead. But Hercules would have as soon 
sold the Glory of cleansing the Augean Stables, which was pretty 
near the same Sort of Work. 

No sooner was the Controversy at an end, but we sent them un- 
fortunate Fellows back to their Quarters, whom Chance had Con- 
demn'd to remain upon Firm Land and Sleep in a whole Skin. 
In the mean while the Surveyors carry'd the Line 3 Miles, which 
was no Contemptible day's work, considering how cruelly they 
were entangled with Bryars and Gall Bushes. The Leaf of this 
last Shrub bespeaks it to be of the Alaternus Family. 

Our Work ended within a Quarter of a Mile of the Dismal 
above-mention'd, where the Ground began to be already full of 
Sunken Holes and Slashes, which had, here and there, some few 
Reeds growing in them. 

Tis hardly credible how little the Bordering inhabitants were 
acquainted with this mighty Swamp, notwithstanding they had 
liv'd their whole lives within Smell of it. Yet, as great Strangers 



WILLIAM BYRD 263 

as they were to it, they pretended to be very exact in their Account 
of its Dimensions, and were positive it could not be above 7 or 8 
Miles wide, but knew no more of the Matter than Star-gazers 
know of the Distance of the Fixt Stars. At the Same time, they 
were Simple enough to amuse our Men with Idle Stories of the 
Lyons, Panthers and Alligators, they were like to encounter in that 
dreadful Place. 

In short, we saw plainly there was no Intelligence of this Terra 
Incognita to be got, but from our own Experience. For that 
Reason it was resolv'd to make the requisite Dispositions to enter 
it next Morning. We allotted every one of the Surveyors for this 
painful Enterprise, with 12 Men to attend them. Fewer than that 
cou'd not be employ'd in clearing the way, carrying the Chain, 
marking the Trees, and bearing the necessary Bedding and Provi- 
sions. Nor wou'd the Commissioners themselves have Spared 
their Persons on this Occasion, but for fear of adding to the poor 
men's Burthen, while they were certain they cou'd add nothing to 
their Resolution. 

We quarter'd with our Friend and Fellow Traveller, William 
Wilkins, who had been our faithful Pilot to Coratuck, and liv'd 
about a mile from the Place where the Line ended. Every thing 
lookt so very clean, and the Furniture so neat, that we were tempted 
to Lodge within Doors. But the Novelty of being shut up so close 
quite spoil'd our rest, nor did we breathe so free by abundance, 
as when we lay in the open Air. 

14. Before nine of the Clock this Morning, the Provisions, Bed- 
ding and other Necessaries, were made up into Packs for the Men 
to carry on their Shoulders into the Dismal. They were victuall'd 
for 8 days at full Allowance, Nobody doubting but that wou'd be 
abundantly Sufficient to carry them thro' that Inhospitable Place ; 
nor Indeed was it possible for the Poor Fellows to Stagger under 
more. As it was, their Loads weigh 'd from 60 to 70 Pounds, in 
just Proportion to the Strength of those who were to bear them. 

Twou'd have been unconscionable to have Saddled them with 
Burthens heavier than that, when they were to lugg them thro' a 
filthy Bogg, which was hardly practicable with no Burthen at all. 

Besides this Luggage at their Backs, they were obhg'd to meas- 
ure the distance, mark the Trees, and clear the way for the Sur- 



264 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

veyors every Step they went. It was really a Pleasure to see with 
how much Cheerfulness they undertook, and v/ith how much Spirit 
they went thro' all this Drudgery. For their Greater Safety, the 
Commissioners took care to furnish them with Peruvian-Bark, 
Rhubarb and Hipocoacanah, in case they might happen, in that 
wet Journey, to be taken with fevers or Fluxes. 

Altho' there was no need of Example to inflame Persons already 
so cheerful, yet to enter the People with better grace, the Author 
and two more of the Commissioners accompanied them half a 
Mile into the Dismal. The Skirts of it were thinly Planted with 
Dwarf Reeds and Gall-Bushes, but when we got into the Dismal 
itself, we found the Reeds grew there much taller and closer, and, 
to mend the matter was so interlac'd with bamboe-briars, that there 
was no scufHing thro' them without the help of Pioneers. At the 
same time, we found the Ground moist and trembling under our 
feet like a Quagmire, insomuch that it was an easy Matter to run a 
Ten-Foot-Pole up to the Head in it, without exerting any uncom- 
mon Strength to do it. 

Two of the Men, whose Burthens were the least cumbersome, 
had orders to march before, with their Tomahawks, and clear the 
way, in order to make an Opening for the Surveyors. By their 
Assistance we made a Shift to push the Line half a Mile in 3 Hours, 
and then reacht a small piece of firm Land, about 100 Yards wide, 
Standing up above the rest like an Island. Here the people were 
glad to lay down their Loads and take a little refreshment, while 
the happy man, whose lot it was to carry the Jugg of Rum, began 
already, like Aesop's Bread-Carriers, to find it grow a good deal 
lighter. 

After reposing about an Hour, the Commissioners recommended 
Vigour and Constancy to their Fellow-Travellers, by whom they 
were answer'd with 3 Cheerful Huzzas, in Token of Obedience. 
This Ceremony was no sooner over but they took up their Burthens 
and attended the Motion of the Surveyors, who, tho' they workt 
with all their might, could reach but one Mile farther, the same 
obstacles still attending them which they had met with in the 
Morning. 

However small this distance may seem to such as are us'd to 
travel at their Ease, yet our Poor Men, who were oblig'd to work 



WILLIAM BYRD 265 

with an unwieldy Load at their Backs, had reason to think it a 
long way; Especially in a Bogg where they had no firm Footing, 
but every Step made a deep Impression, which was instantly fiU'd 
with Water. At the same time they were labouring with their 
Hands to cut down the Reeds, which were Ten-feet high, their 
Legs were hampered with the Bryars. Besides, the Weather 
happen'd to be very warm, and the tallness of the Reeds kept off 
every Friendly Breeze from coming to refresh them. And, indeed, 
it was a little provoking to hear the Wind whistling among the 
Branches of the White Cedars, which grew here and there amongst 
the Reeds, and at the same time not have the Comfort to feel the 
least Breath of it. 

In the mean time the 3 Commissioners return'd out of the Dis- 
mal the same way they went in, and, having join'd their Brethren, 
proceeded that Night as far as Mr. Wilson's. 

This worthy Person lives within sight of the Dismal, in the Skirts 
whereof his Stocks range and Maintain themselves all the Winter, 
and yet he knew as little of it as he did of Terra Australis Incog- 
nita. He told us a Canterbury Tale of a North Briton, whose 
Curiosity Spurr'd him a long way into this great Desart, as he 
call'd it, near 20 Years ago, but he having no Compass, nor seeing 
the Sun for several Days Together, wander'd about till he was 
almost famisht; but at last he bethought himself of a Secret his 
Countrymen make use of to Pilot themselves in a Dark day. 

He took a fat Louse out of his Collar, and expos'd it to the open 
day on a Piece of White Paper, which he brought along with him 
for his Journal. The poor Insect having no Eye-lids, turn'd 
himself about till he found the Darkest Part of the Heavens, and 
so made the best of his way towards the North. By this Direction 
he Steer'd himself Safe out, and gave such a frightful account of the 
Monsters he saw, and the Distresses he underwent, that no mortall 
Since has been hardy enough to go upon the like dangerous Dis- 
covery. 

/ 15. The Surveyors pursued their work with all Diligence, but 
Still found the Soil of the Dismal so Spongy that the Water ouzed 
up into every foot-step they took. To their Sorrow, too, they found 
the Reeds and Bryars more firmly interwoven than they did the 
day before. But the greatest Grievance was from large Cypresses, 



266 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

which the Wind had blown down and heap'd upon one another. 
On the Limbs of most of them grew Sharp Snags, Pointing every 
way like so many Pikes, that requir'd much Pains and Caution 
to avoid. 

These Trees being Evergreens, and Shooting their Large Tops 
Very high, are easily overset by every Gust of Wind, because there 
is no firm Earth to Steddy their Roots. Thus many of them were 
laid prostrate to the great Encumbrance of the way. Such 
Variety of Diflaculties made the Business go on heavily, insomuch 
that, from Morning till Night, the Line could advance no further 
than I Mile and 31 Poles. Never was Rum, that cordial of Life, 
found more necessary than it was in this Dirty Place. It did not 
only recruit the People's Spirits, now almost Jaded with Fatigue, 
but serv'd to correct the Badness of the Water, and at the same 
time to resist the Malignity of the Air. Whenever the Men wanted 
to drink, which was very often, they had nothing more to do but to 
make a Hole, and the Water bubbled up in a Moment. But it 
was far from being either clear or well tasted, and had besides a 
Physical Efifect, from the Tincture it receiv'd from the Roots of 
the Shrubbs and Trees that grew in the Neighbourhood. 

LIFE IN NORTH CAROLINA 

[From "The History of the Dividing Line"] 

The Pines in this Part of the country are of a different Species 
from those that grow in Virginia : their bearded Leaves are much 
longer and their Cones much larger. Each Cell contains a Seed 
of the Size and Figure of a black-ey'd Pea, which. Shedding in 
November, is very good Mast for Hogs, and fattens them in a 
Short time. 

The Smallest of these Pines are full of Cones, which are 8 or 
9 Inches long, and each affords commonly 60 or 70 Seeds. This 
Kind of Mast has the Advantage of all other, by being more con- 
stant, and less liable to be nippt by the Frost, or Eaten by the 
Caterpillars. The Trees also abound more with Turpentine, 
and consequently yield more Tarr, than either the Yellow or the 
White Pine ; And for the same reason make more durable Timber 
for building. The Inhabitants hereabouts pick up Knots of Light- 



WILLIAM BYRD 267 

wood in Abundance, which they burn into tar, and then carry it to 
Norfolk or Nansimond for a Market. The Tar made in this 
method is the less Valuable, because it is said to burn the Cordage, 
tho' it is full as good for all other uses, as that made in Sweden 
and Muscovy. 

Surely there is no place in the World where the Inhabitants live 
with less Labour than in N Carolina. It approaches nearer to 
the Description of Lubberland than any other, by the great felicity 
of the Climate, the easiness of raising Provisions, and the Slothful- 
ness of the People. 

Indian Corn is of so great increase, that a little Pains will Sub- 
sist a very large Family with Bread, and then they may have meat 
without any pains at all, by the Help of the Low Grounds, and the 
great Variety of Mast that grows on the High-land. The Men, 
for their Parts, just like the Indians, impose all the Work upon the 
poor Women. They make their Wives rise out of their Beds early 
in the Morning, at the same time that they lye and Snore, till the 
Sun has run one third of his course, and disperst all the unwhole- 
some Damps. Then, after Stretching and Yawning for half an 
Hour, they light their Pipes, and, under the Protection of a cloud 
of Smoak, venture out into the open Air; tho', if it happens to be 
never so little cold, they quickly return Shivering into the Chimney 
corner. When the weather is mild, they stand leaning with both 
their arms upon the corn-lield fence, and gravely consider whether 
they had best go and take a Small Heat at the Hough : but gener- 
ally find reasons to put it off till another time. 

Thus they loiter away their Lives, Uke Solomon's Sluggard, 
with their Arms across, and at the Winding up of the Year Scarcely 
have Bread to Eat. 

To speak the Truth, tis a thorough Aversion to Labor that makes 
People file off to N Carolina, where Plenty and a Warm Sun con- 
firm them in their Disposition to Laziness for their whole Lives. 

26. Since we were like to be confin'd to this place, till the People 
return'd out of the Dismal, twas agreed that our Chaplain might 
Safely take a turn to Edenton, to preach the Gospel to the In- 
fidels there, and Christen their Children. He was accompany'd 
thither by Mr. Little, One of the Carolina Commissioners, who, to 
shew his regard for the Church, offer'd to treat Him on the Road 



268 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS ' 

with a Fricassee of Rum. They fry'd half a dozen Rashers of 
very fat Bacon in a Pint of Rum, both which being disht up to- 
gether, serv'd the Company at once for meat and Drink. 

Most of the Rum they get in this Country comes from New 
England, and is so bad and unwholesome, that it is not improperly 
call'd "Kill-Devil." It is distill'd there from forreign molosses, 
which, if Skilfully manag'd, yields near Gallon for Gallon. Their 
molosses comes from the same country, and has the name of 
"Long Sugar" in Carolina, I suppose from the Ropiness of it, 
and Serves all the purposes of Sugar, both in their Eating and 
Drinking. 

When they entertain their Friends bountifully, they fail not to 
set before them a Capacious Bowl of Bombo, so call'd from the 
Admiral of that name. This is a Compound of Rum and Water in 
Equal Parts, made palatable with the said long Sugar. As good 
Humour begins to flow, and the Bowl to Ebb, they take care to 
replenish it with Shear Rum, of which there always is a Reserve 
under the Table. But such Generous doings happen only when 
that Balsam of Life is plenty; for they have often such Melan- 
choly times, that neither Land-graves nor Cassicks can procure 
one drop for their Wives, when they ly in, or are troubled with the 
Colick or Vapours. Very few in this Country have the Industry 
to plant Orchards, which, in a Dearth of Rum, might supply them 
with much better Liquor. 

The Truth is, there is one Inconvenience that easily discour- 
ages lazy People from making This improvement: very often, in 
Autumn, when the Apples begin to ripen, they are visited with 
Numerous Flights of paraqueets, that bite all the fruit to Pieces in 
a moment, for the sake of the Kernels. The Havock they make 
is Sometimes so great, that whole Orchards are laid waste in Spite 
of aU the Noises that can be made, or Mawkins that can be dresst 
up, to fright 'em away. These Ravenous Birds visit North Caro- 
lina only during the warm Season, and so soon as the Cold begins 
to come on, retire back towards the Sun. They rarely Venture 
so far North as Virginia, except in a very hot Summer, when they 
visit the most Southern Parts of it. They are very Beautiful; 
but Hke some other pretty Creatures, are apt to be loud and mis- 
chievous. 



WILLIAM BYRD 269 

27. Betwixt this and Edenton there are many thuckleberry 
Slashes, which afford a convenient Harbour for Wolves and Foxes. 
The first of these wild Beasts is not so large and fierce as they are 
in other countries more Northerly. He will not attack a Man in 
the keenest of his Hunger, but run away from him, as from an 
Animal more mischievous than himself. 

The Foxes are much bolder, and will Sometimes not only make 
a Stand, but likewise assault any one that would balk them of 
their Prey. The Inhabitants hereabouts take the trouble to dig 
abundance of Wolf-Pits, so deep and perpendicular, that when 
a Wolf is once tempted into them, he can no more Scramble out 
again, than a Husband who has taken the Leap can Scramble out 
of Matrimony. 

Most of the Houses in this Part of the Country are Log-houses, 
covered with Pine or Cypress Shingles, 3 feet long, and one broad. 
They are hung upon Laths with Peggs, and their doors too turn 
upon Wooden Hinges, and have wooden Locks to Secure them, 
so that the Building is finisht without Nails or other Iron-Work. 
They also set up their Pales without any Nails at all, and indeed 
more Securely than those that are nail'd. There are 3 Rails mor- 
tised into the Posts, the lowest of which serves as a Sill with a 
Groove in the Middle, big enough to receive the End of the Pales : 
the middle Part of the Pale rests against the Inside of the Next 
Rail, and the Top of it is brought forward to the outside of the 
uppermost. Such Wreathing of the Pales in and out makes them 
stand firm, and much harder to unfix than when nail'd in the 
Ordinary way. 

Within 3 or 4 Miles of Edenton, the Soil appears to be a little 
more fertile, tho' it is much cut with Slashes, which seem all to 
have a tendency towards the Dismal. 

This Town is Situate on the North side of Albemarle Sound, 
M'hich is there about 5 miles over. A Dirty Slash runs all along 
the Back of it, which in the Summer is a foul annoyance, and 
furnishes abundance of that Carolina plague, musquetas. There 
may be 40 or 50 Houses, most of them Small, and built without 
Expense. A Citizen here is counted Extravagant, if he has Am- 
bition enough to aspire to a Brick-chimney. Justice herself is 
but indifferently Lodged, the Court-House having much the Air 



270 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

of a Common Tobacco-House. I believe this is the only Me- 
tropolis in the Christian or Mahometan World, where there is 
neither Church, Chappel, Mosque, Synagogue, or any other Place 
of Publick Worship of any Sect or Religion whatsoever. 



ON THE ALLIGATOR 

[From " The History of the Dividing Line "] 

In Santee river, as in Several others of Carolina, a Small kind 
of allegator is frequently seen, which perfumes the Water with a 
Musky Smell. They Seldom exceed Eight Feet in Length in 
these parts, whereas, near the Equinoctial, they come up to twelve 
or Fourteen. And the heat of the Climate don't only make them 
bigger, but more Fierce and Voracious. They watch the Cattle 
there when they come to. drink and Cool themselves in the River; 
and because they are not able to drag them into the Deep Water, 
they make up by Strategem what they want in Force. They 
Swallow great Stones, the Weight of which being added to their 
Strength, enables them to tug a Moderate Cow under Water, 
and as soon as they have drown'd her, they discharge the Stones 
out of their Maw and then feast upon the Carcass. However, 
as Fierce and Strong as these Monsters are, the Indians will sur- 
prise them Napping as they float upon the Surface, get astride 
upon their Necks, then whip a short piece of wood like a Trun- 
cheon into their Jaws, & holding the Ends with their two hands, 
hinder them from diving by keeping their mouths open, and when 
they are almost Spent, they will make to the shoar, where their 
Riders knock them on the Head and Eat them. This Amphibious 
Animal is a Smaller kind of Crocodile, having the Same Shape 
exactly, only the Crocodile of the Nile is twice as long, being when 
full grown from 20 to Thirty Feet. This Enormous Length is the 
more to be wonder'd at, because the Crocodile is hatcht from an 
Egg very little larger than that of a Goose. It has a long Head, 
which it can open very wide, with very Sharp & Strong teeth. 
Their Eyes are Small, their Legs Short, with Claws upon their Feet. 
Their Tail makes half the Length of their Body, and the whole is 
guarded with hard impenetrable Scales, except the Belly, which 



WILLIAM BYRD 27 1 

is much Softer and Smoother. They keep much upon the Land 
in the day time, but towards the Evening retire into the Water to 
avoid the Cold Dews of the Night. They run pretty fast right 
forward, but are very awkward and Slow in turning, by reason of 
their unwieldy Length. It is an Error that they have no Tongue, 
without which they cou'd hardly Swallow their Food; but in eating 
they move the upper Jaw only. Contrary to all other Animals. 
The way of catching them in Egypt is, wdth a Strong Hook fixt 
to the End of a chain, and baited with a joynt of Pork, which they 
are very fond of. But a live Hog is generally tyed near, the Cry 
of which allures them to the Hook. This Account of the Croco- 
dile will agree in most particulars with the Alligator, only the 
Bigness of the last cannot entitle it to the Name of "Leviathan," 
which Job gave formerly to the crocodile, and not to the Whale, 
as some Interpreters wou'd make us believe. 



DRAWING A TOOTH 

[From "A Journey to the Land of Eden "] 

1 had an impertinent Tooth in my upper Jaw, that had been 
loose for some time, and made me chew with great Caution. 
Particularly I cou'd not grind a Biscuit but with much deliberation 
and presence of mind. Tooth-Drawers we had none amongst us, 
nor any of the Instruments they make use of. Plowever, Invention 
supply'd this want very happily, and I contriv'd to get rid of this 
troublesome Companion by cutting a Caper. I caused a Twine 
to be fasten'd round the Root of my Tooth, about a Fathom in 
Length, and then ty'd the other End to the Snag of a Log that lay 
upon the ground, in such a Manner that I cou'd just stand upright. 
Having adjusted my String in this manner, I bent my Knees enough 
to enable me to spring vigorously off the Ground, as perpendicularly 
as I cou'd. The force of the Leap drew out the Tooth with so 
much ease that I felt nothing of it, nor should have believ'd it 
was come away, unless I had seen it dangling at the End of the 
String. An Under tooth may be fecht out by standing off the 
Ground and fastning your String at due distance above you. 
And having so fixt your Gear, jump off your Standing, and the 



272 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

weight of your Body, added to the force of the Spring, will poize 
out your Tooth with less pain than any Operator upon Earth 
cou'd draw it. This new way of Tooth-drawing, being so silently 
and deliberately perform'd, both surprized and delighted all that 
were present, who cou'd not guess what I was going about. I im- 
mediately found the benefit of getting rid of this troublesome 
Companion, by eating my Supper with more comfort than I had 
done during the whole Expedition. 



JOHN SECCOMB 

[John Seccomb, a Harvard graduate of 1728, long a Congregationalist 
minister in Massachusetts and Nova Scotia, was the author of "Father 
Abbey's Will" — a literary curiosity concerning which the most curious 
fact is its contemporary popularity. It was probably written while Seccomb 
was a divinity student at Harvard, and was inspired by the death of one 
Matthew Abdy, a bedmaker and bottlewasher for the college. It was sent 
to England, and appeared in both the London Magazine and the Gentleman's 
Magazine for May, 1732. The poem, as given below, is from the London 
Magazine. The version in the Gentleinan' s Magazine is the same, with a 
few minor variations, mostly in capitalization. An American reprint of 
later date, entitled "Father Abbey's Will," is prefixed by an explanatory 
note dated "December, 1730," and closes with the quatrain: — 

"Thus father Abbey left his spouse, 
As rich as church or college mouse, 
Which is sufficient invitation. 
To serve the college in his station." 

In the London Magazine for August, 1732, appeared another attempt in the 
same metre, purporting to be a proposal of marriage from the bedmaker at 
Yale to "Mistress Abbey." This is also credited to Seccomb. 

At first sight it seems hard to account for the publication of this dog- 
gerel in the two leading English magazines of the day. Professor Tyler, 
in his perplexity over this matter, remarks that "It seems to have been 
widely read in the mother-country as a just specimen of the poetic attain- 
ments and of the general literary taste of the Americans." An examination 
of the position that the poem holds in the magazines tends to throw doubt 
on this statement. In both it appears anonymously and without any re- 
mark as to the nationality of the author. In both it is among other verse 
effusions, presumably by Englishmen, which are not markedly superior in 
refinement or wit. Perhaps its popularity must be taken only as a reminder 
that taste in humor, even more than in other forms of aesthetic expression, 
has changed since 1730.] 



273 



274 



EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 



THE LAST WILL OF MR. MATTHEW A Y OF 

NEW-ENGLAND 

To my dear wife 

My joy and life, 
I freely now do give her 

My whole estate, 

With all my plate, 
Being just about to leave her. 

A. tub of soap, 

A long cart rope, 
A frying pan & kettle, 

An ashen pail, 

A threshing flail, 
An iron wedge and beetle. 

Two painted chairs, 

Nine warden pears, 
A large old dripping platter, 

The bed of hay 

On which I lay, 
An old sauce-pan for butter. 

A little mug, 

A two-quart jug, 
A bottle full of brandy, 

A looking-glass 

To see your face. 
You'll find it very handy. 

A musket true 

As ever flew, 
A pound of shot & wallet, 

A leather sash 

My calabash. 
My powder-horn and bullet. 



JOHN SECCOMB 

An old sword blade, 

A garden spade, 
A hoe, a rake, a ladder, 

A wooden can, 

A close-stool pan, 
A clyster-pipe & bladder. 

A greasy hat, 

My old ram-cat, 
A yard and half of linnen, 

A pot of grease, 

A woollen fleece, 
In order for your spinning. 

A small-tooth comb. 

An ashen broom, 
A candlestick & hatchet, 

A coverlid, 

Strip'd down with red, 
A bag of rags to patch it. 

A ragged mat, 

A tub of fat, 
A book put out by Bunyan, 

Another book 

By Rohin Rook, 
A skain or two of spunyam. 

An old black muff, 

Some garden stuff, 
A quantity of borrage. 

Some devil's weed, 

And burdock seed. 
To season well your porridge. 

A chafing dish 
With one salt fish. 
If I am not mistaken, 



275 



276 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

A leg of pork, 
A broken fork, 
And half a flitch of Bacon. 

A spinning wheel, 

One peck of meal, 
A knife without a handle, 

A rusty lamp, 

Two quarts of samp, 
And half a tallow candle. 

My pouch and pipes. 

Two oxen tripes, 
An oaken dish well carved; 

My little dog, 

And spotted hog, 
With two young pigs just starved. 

This is my store, 

I have no more, 
I heartily do give it. 

My years are spun, 

My days are done. 
And so I think to leave it. 



JONATHAN EDWARDS 

[Jonathan Edwards was born in 1703, the son of a Connecticut clergyman. 
He was extremely precocious, and early showed especial interest in philoso- 
phy and in natural science. He was graduated from Yale in 1720, and 
studied divinity. After preaching a few months in New York, and serving 
as tutor in Yale for two years, he accepted a call to Northampton, Mass. 
Here he remained for nearly twenty-four years as colleague pastor and pas- 
tor, when some differences with his congregation resulted in what was then 
the very unusual procedure of his dismissal. He then retired to Stock- 
bridge, Mass., as a missionary to the Indians. In 1758 he became president 
of Princeton College, but died from the small-pox just after he had entered 
on the duties of his office. 

Jonathan Edwards was probably the ablest of the early New England 
divines, and he illustrates in a peculiar way the influence of the New Eng- 
land intellectual life on character. He possessed fine sensibilities, and if one 
may judge by much of his prose, he had an artist's sense of form. The 
av^rfulness of the logical consequences of his religious faith at first repelled 
him, but he became reconciled to them by sheer force of intellect and will, 
and made their inculcation and defence the work of his life. So it came 
about that the man who perhaps possessed the finest poetic nature in early 
New England produced no poems, but on the one hand, the greatest philo- 
sophical treatise written by an American, and on the other, the most vivid 
and appalling of the many sermons that pictured eternal torment. 

Edwards's greatest work is "A careful and strict Enquiry into the modern 
prevailing Notions of that Freedom of Will, which is supposed to be 
essential to Moral Agency, Vertue and Vice, Reward and Punishment, Praise 
and Blame" — commonly known by the shorter title of "Treatise on the 
Freedom of the Will." Even those who disagree with his conclusions have 
generally conceded the great power of original thought shown in this work, 
and its fairness and clarity of statement. Besides this, he produced a num- 
ber of other theological writings, including a "Treatise on the Religious 
Affections," a "Treatise on Original Sin," "The History of Redemption," 
etc. During his ministry at Northampton he was connected with the begin- 
nings of the revival movement later known as "The Great Awakening," 
and in consequence he wrote "A Faithful Narrative of the Surprizing Work 
of God in the Conversion of Many Hundred Souls in Northampton, and 
the Neighbouring Towns and Villages of New-Hampshire in New-Eng- 
land" (sometimes known as "Narratives of Surprising Conversions"), and 
"Thoughts on the Revival of Religion in New England in 1740." A con- 
siderable number of his own sermons are calculated to stir his hearers by 

277 



278 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

presenting the terrors of future punishment. The most famous, though 
hardly the most powerful or most representative of these, is entitled "Sinners 
in the Hands of an Angry God." It must not be inferred, however, that the 
greater part of Edwards's preaching was of this character. Even these 
damnatory sermons have a logical structure and a solid basis of thought 
that makes them far more than blind appeals to feeling. It is unfortunate 
that the limits of the present work forbid the inclusion of one of the sermons 
entire, since the wonderful force and clearness of the preacher's method can 
be seen only by reading a discourse as a whole. 

The great bulk of Jonathan Edwards's writings was left in manuscript at 
the time of his death. Many of his works were iirst published in Edinburgh, 
where he was admired as one of the greatest supporters of Calvinism. The 
first collected edition of his works in America was published in 1809. 

The account of religious experiences is from a manuscript found 
among the author's papers, and printed in Dwight's "Life of Edwards." 
The selection from the "Faithful Narrative," etc., is from the second edi- 
tion, London, 1738; that from the "Treatise on the Freedom of the Will" 
is from the first edition, Boston, 1754. The selection from the Sermons 
follows the edition of 1844, which, like all the collected editions, modernizes 
the text.] 

EARLY RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCES ly 

[From a private manuscript] 

From my childhood up, my mind had been full of objections 
against the doctrine of God's sovereignty, in choosing whom he 
would to eternal life, and rejecting whom he pleased; leaving 
them eternally to perish, and be everlastingly tormented in hell. 
It used to appear like a horrible doctrine to me. But I remember 
the time very well, when I seemed to be convinced, and fully 
satisfied, as to this sovereignty of God, and his justice in thus 
eternally disposing of men, according to his sovereign pleasure. 
But never cpuld give an account, how, or by what means, I was 
thus convinced, not in the least imagining at the time, nor a long 
time after, that there was any extraordinary influence of God's 
Spirit in it; but only that now I saw further, and my reason 
apprehended the justice and reasonableness of it. However, my 
mind rested in it ; and it put an end to all those cavils and objec- 
tions. And there has been a wonderful alteration in my mind, 
with respect to the doctrine of God's sovereignty, from that day 
to this; so that I scarce ever have found so much as the rising 
of an objection against it, in the most absolute sense, in God 



JONATHAN EDWARDS 279 

shewing mercy to whom he will shew mercy, and hardening 
whom he will. God's absolute sovereignty and justice, with 
respect to salvation and damnation, is what my mind seems to 
rest assured of, as much as of any thing that I see with my eyes ; 
at least it is so at times. But I have often, since that first con- 
viction, had quite another kind of sense of God's sovereignty 
than I had then. I have often since had not only a conviction, 
but a delightful conviction. The doctrine has very often ap- 
peared exceedingly pleasant, bright, and sweet. Absolute sov- 
ereignty is what I love to ascribe to God. But my first convic- 
tion was not so. 

The first instance, that I remember, of that sort of inward, 
sweet delight in God and divine things, that I have lived much 
in since, was on reading those words, i Tim. i. 17. Now unto 
the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only wise God, he honour 
and glory for ever and ever. Amen. As I read the words, there 
came into my soul, and was as it were diffused through it, a 
sense of the glory of the Divine Being ; a new sense, quite different 
from any thing I ever experienced before. Never any words of 
Scripture seemed to me as these words did. I thought with my- 
self, how excellent a Being that was, and how happy I should 
be, if I might enjoy that God, and be rapt up to him in heaven, 
and be as it were swallowed up in him for ever ! I kept saying, 
and as it were singing, over these words of scripture to myself; 
and went to pray to God that I might enjoy him, and prayed in 
a manner quite different from what I used to do; with a new 
sort of affection. But it never came into my thought, that there 
was any thing spiritual, or of a saving nature in this. 

From about that time, I began to have a new kind of appre- 
hensions and ideas of Christ, and the work of redemption, and 
the glorious way of salvation by him. An inward, sweet sense 
of these things, at times, came into my heart; and my soul was 
led away in pleasant views and contemplations of them. And 
my mind was greatly engaged to spend my time in reading and 
meditating on Christ, on the beauty and excellency of his per- 
son, and the lovely way of salvation by free grace in him. I 
found no books so dehghtful to me, as those that treated of these 
subjects. Those words Cant. ii. i. used to be abundantly with 



28o EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

me, / am the Rose of Sharon, and the Lily of the valleys. The 
words seemed to me, sweetly to represent the loveUness and 
beauty of Jesus Christ. The whole book of Canticles used to be 
pleasant to me, and I used to be much in reading it, about that 
time; and found, from time to time, an inward sweetness, that 
would carry me away, in my contemplations. This I know not 
how to express otherwise, than by a calm, sweet abstraction of 
soul from all the concerns of this world; and sometimes a kind 
of vision, or fixed ideas and imaginations, of being alone in the 
mountains, or some solitary wilderness, far from all mankind, 
sweetly conversing with Christ, and wrapt and swallowed up in 
God. - The sense I had of divine things, would often of a sudden 
kindle up, as it were, a sweet burning in my heart; an ardour 
of soul, that I iknow not how to express. 

Not long after I first began to experience these things, I gave 
an account to my father of some things that had passed in my 
mind. I was pretty much affected by the discourse we had 
together; and when the discourse was ended, I walked abroad 
alone, in a solitary place in my father's pasture, for contempla- 
tion. And as I was walking there, and looking upon the sky 
and clouds, there came into my mind so sweet a sense of the 
glorious majesty and grace of God, as I know not how to express. 
— I seemed to see them both in a sweet conjunction ; majesty 
and meekness joined together: it was a sweet, and gentle, and 
holy majesty; and also a majestic meekness; an awful sweet- 
ness; a high, and great, and holy gentleness. 

After this my sense of divine things gradually increased, and 
became more and more lively, and had more of that inward 
sweetness. The appearance of every thing was altered; there 
seemed to be, as it were, a calm, sweet, cast, or appearance of 
divine glory, in almost everything. God's excellency, his wis- 
dom, his purity and love, seemed to appear in every thing; in 
the sun, moon and stars; in the clouds and blue sky; in the 
grass, flowers, trees; in the water and all nature; which used 
greatly to fix my mind. I often used to sit and view the moon 
for a long time ; and in the day, spent much time in viewing the 
clouds and sky, to behold the sweet glory of God in these things : 
in the meantime, singing forth, with a low voice, my contempla- 



JONATHAN EDWARDS 28 1 

tions of the Creator and Redeemer. And scarce any thing, 
among all the works of nature, was so sweet to me as thunder 
and lightening; formerly nothing had been so terrible to me. 
Before, I used to be uncommonly terrified with thunder, and to 
be struck with terror when I saw a thunder-storm rising; but 
now, on the contrary, it rejoiced me. I felt God, if I may so 
speak, at the first appearance of a thunder storm; and used to 
take the opportunity, at such times, to fix myself in order to view 
the clouds, and see the lightnings play, and hear the majestic 
and awful voice of God's thunder, which oftentimes was exceed- 
ingly entertaining, leading me to sweet contemplations of my 
great and glorious God. While thus engaged, it always seemed 
natural for me to sing, or chant forth my meditations; or, to 
speak my thoughts in soliloquies with a singing voice. 

ON FUTURE PUNISHMENT 

[From "The Future Punishment of the Wicked Unavoidable and 
Intolerable" '] 

I come now, 

III. To show that as impenitent sinners cannot shun the 
threatened punishment; so neither can they do any thing to 
deliver themselves from it, or to relieve themselves under it. 
This is implied in those words of the text. Can thine hands he 
strong ? It is with our hands that we make and accomplish things 
for ourselves. But the wicked in hell will have no strength of 
hand to accomplish any thing at all for themselves, or to bring 
to pass any deliverance, or any degree of relief. 

I. They will not be able in that conflict to overcome their 
enemy, and so to deUver themselves. God, who will then under- 

P The text of this sermon was Ezekiel xxii. 14. The plan is thus indicated by 
the author: — 

"Doctrine. 

"Since God hath undertaken to deal with impenitent sinners, they shall neither 
shun the threatened misery, nor deliver themselves out of it, nor can they bear it. 

"In handling this doctrine, I shall, i. Show what is implied in God's under- 
taking to deal with impenitent sinners. 2. That therefore they cannot avoid 
punishment. 3. That they cannot in any measure deliver themselves from it, 
or do anything for their own relief under it. 4. That they cannot bear it. 5. I 
shall answer an inquiry; and then proceed to the use."] 



282 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

take to deal with them, and will gird himself with might to exe- 
cute wrath, will be their enemy, and will act the part of an enemy 
with a witness; and they will have no strength to oppose him. 
Those who live negligent of their souls under the light of the 
gospel, act as if they supposed that they should be able hereafter 
to make their part good with God. i Cor. x. 22, "Do we pro- 
voke the Lord to jealousy? Are we stronger than he?" — But 
they will have no power, no might to resist that omnipotence, 
which will be engaged against them. 

2. They will have no strength in their hands to do any thing 
to appease God, or in the least to abate the fierceness of his wrath. 
They will not be able to offer any satisfaction: they will not be 
able to procure God's pity. Though they cry, God will not 
hear them. They will find no price to offer to God, in order to 
purchase any favor, or to pay any part of their debt. 

3. They will not be able to find any to befriend them, and 
intercede with God for them. They had the offer of a mediator 
often made them in this world; but they will have no offers of 
such a nature in hell. None will befriend them. They will 
have no friend in hell; all there will be their enemies. They 
will have no friend in heaven: none of the saints or angels vdll 
befriend them; or if they should, it would be to no purpose. 
There will be no creature that will have any power to deHver 
them, nor will any ever pity them. 

4. Nor will they ever be able to make their escape. They 
will find no means to break prison and flee. In hell they will 
be reserved in chains of darkness forever and ever. Malefactors 
have often found means to break prison, and escape the hand 
of civil justice. But none ever escaped out of the prison of hell, 
which is God's prison. It is a strong prison: it is beyond any 
finite power, or the united strength of all wicked men and devils, 
to unlock, or break open the door of that prison, Christ hath 
the key of hell ; "he shuts and no man opens." 

5. Nor will they ever be able to find any thing to relieve them 
in hell. They will never find any resting place there ; any place 
of respite; any secret corner, which will be cooler than the rest, 
where they may have a Httle respite, a small abatement of the 
extremity of their torment. They never will be able to find any 



JONATHAN EDWARDS 283 

cooling stream or fountain, in any part of that world of torment ; 
no, nor so much as a drop of water to cool their tongues. They 
will find no company to give them any comfort, or to do them 
the least good. They will find no place, where they can remain, 
and rest, and take breath for one minute: for they will be tor- 
mented with fire and brimstone; and will have no rest day nor 
night forever and ever. 

Thus impenitent sinners will be able neither to shun the punish- 
ment threatened, nor to deliver themselves from it, nor to find 
any reUef under it. 

I come now, 

IV. To show, that neither will they be able to bear it. Neither 
will their hands be strong to deliver themselves from it, nor will 
their hearts be able to endure it. It is common with men, when 
they meet with calamities in this world, in the first place to en- 
deavor to shun them. But if they find, that they cannot shun 
them, then after they are come, they endeavor to deliver them- 
selves from them as soon as they can ; or at least, to order things 
so, as to deliver themselves in some degree. But if they find 
that they can by no means deliver themselves, and see that the 
case is so that they must bear them; then they set themselves to 
bear them: they fortify their spirits, and take up a resolution, 
that they will support themselves under them as well as they can. 
They clothe themselves with all the resolution and courage they 
are masters of, to keep their spirits from sinking under their 
calamities. 

But it will be utterly in vain for impenitent sinners to think 
to do thus with respect to the torments of hell. They will not be 
able to endure them, or at all to support themselves under them: 
the torment will be immensely beyond their strength. What 
will it signify for a worm, which is about to be pressed under 
the weight of some great rock, to be let fall wdth its whole weight 
upon it, to collect its strength, to set itself to bear up the weight 
of the rock, and to preserve itself from being crushed by it? 
Much more in vain will it be for a poor damned soul, to en- 
deavor to support itself under the weight of the wrath of Almighty 
God. What is the strength of man, who is but a worm, to sup- 
port himself against the power of Jehovah, and against the fierce- 



284 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

ness of his wrath? What is man's strength, when set to bear 
up against the exertions of infinite power? Matt. xxi. 44, "Who- 
soever shall fall on this stone shall be broken; but on whomso- 
ever it shall fall, it will grind him to powder." 

When sinners hear of hell torments, they sometimes think 
with themselves: Well, if it shall come to that, that I must go 
to hell, I will bear it as well as I can: as if by clothing them- 
selves with resolution and firmness of mind, they would be able 
to support themselves in some measure ; when, alas ! they will 
have no resolution, no courage at all. However they shall have 
prepared themselves, and collected their strength; yet as soon 
as they shall begin to feel that wrath, their hearts will melt and 
be as water. However before they may seem to harden their 
hearts, in order to prepare themselves to bear, yet the first moment 
they feel it, their hearts will become like wax before the furnace. 
Their courage and resolution will be all gone in an instant; it 
will vanish away like a shadow in the twinkling of an eye. The 
stoutest and most sturdy will have no more courage than the 
feeblest infant: let a man be an infant, or a giant, it will be all 
one. They will not be able to keep alive any courage, any strength, 
any comfort, any hope at all. 

I come now as was proposed, 

V. To answer an inquiry which may naturally be raised con- 
cerning these things. 

Inquiry. Some may be ready to say. If this be the case, if 
impenitent sinners can neither shun future punishment, nor deliver 
themselves from it, nor bear it ; then what will become of them ? 

Answer. They will wholly sink down into eternal death. 
Thei^ will be that sinking of heart, of which we now cannot 
conceive. We see how it is with the body when in extreme pain. 
The nature of the body will support itself for a considerable time 
under very great pain, so as to keep from wholly sinki-ng. There 
will be great struggles, lamentable groans and panting, and it 
may be convulsions. These are the strugglings of nature to sup- 
port itself under the extremity of the pain. There is, as it were, 
a great lothness in nature to yield to it; it cannot bear wholly to 
sink. 

But yet sometimes pain of body is so very extreme and ex- 



JONATHAN EDWARDS 285 

quisite, that the nature of the body cannot support itself under 
it; however loth it may be to sink, yet it cannot bear the pain; 
there are a few struggles, and throes, and pantings, and it may 
be a shriek or two, and then nature yields to the violence of the 
torments, sinks down, and the body dies. This is the death of 
the body. So it will be with the soul in hell; it will have no 
strength or power to deliver itself; and its torment and horror 
will be so great, so mighty, so vastly disproportioned to its strength, 
that having no strength in the least to support itself, although it 
be infinitely contrary to the nature and inclination of the soul 
utterly to sink; yet it will sink, it will utterly and totally sink, 
without the least degree of remaining comfort, or strength, or 
courage, or hope. And though it will never be annihilated, its 
being and perception will never be abolished; yet such will be 
the infinite depth of gloominess that it will sink into, that it will 
be in a state of death, eternal death. 

The nature of man desires happiness; it is the nature of the 
soul to crave and thirst after well-being; and if it be under misery, 
it eagerly pants after relief; and the greater the misery is, the 
more eagerly doth it struggle for help. But if all rehef be with- 
holden, all strength overborne, all support utterly gone; then it 
sinks into the darkness of death. 

We can conceive but little of the matter; we cannot conceive 
what that sinking of the soul in such a case is. But to help 
your conception, imagine yourself to be cast into a fiery oven, 
all of a glowing heat, or into the midst of a glowing brick-kiln, 
or of a great furnace, where your pain would be as much greater 
than that occasioned by accidentally touching a coal of fire, as 
the heat is greater. Imagine also that your body were to lie 
there for a quarter of an hour, full of fire, as full vdthin and with- 
out as a bright coal of fire, all the while full of quick sense; what 
horror would you feel at the entrance of such a furnace! And 
how long would that quarter of an hour seem to you ! If it were 
to be measured by a glass, how long would the glass seem to be 
running ! And after you had endured it for one minute, how 
overbearing would it be to you to think that you had it to en- 
dure the other fourteen ! 

But what would be the effect on your soul, if you knew you 



286 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

must lie there enduring that torment to the full for twenty-four 
hours ! And how much greater would be the effect, if you knew 
you must endure it for a whole year; and how vastly greater 
still, if you knew you must endure it for a thousand years! O 
then, how would your heart sink, if you thought, if you knew, 
that you must bear it forever and ever! That there would be 
no end ! That after millions of millions of ages, your torment 
would be no nearer to an end, than ever it was; and that you 
never, never should be delivered. 

But your torment in hell will be immensely greater than this 
illustration represents. How then will the heart of a poor creature 
sink under it ! How utterly inexpressible and inconceivable must 
the sinking of the soul be in such a case! 

This is the death threatened in the law. This is dying in the 
highest sense of the word. This is to die sensibly; to die and 
know it; to be sensible of the gloom of death. This is to be 
undone ; this is worthy of the name of destruction. This sinking 
of the soul under an infinite weight, which it cannot bear, is the 
gloom of hell. We read in Scripture of the blackness of dark- 
ness; this is it, this is the very thing. We read in Scripture of 
sinners being lost, and of their losing their souls : this is the thing 
intended; this is to lose the soul: they that are the subjects of 
this are utterly lost. 

THE CONVERSION OF A CHILD 

[From "A Narrative of Surprising Conversions"] 

But I now proceed to the other Instance that I would give an 
Account of, which is of the little Child fore-mentioned. Her 
Name is Phebe Bartlet, Daughter of William Bartlet. I shall give 
the Account as I took it from the mouths of her Parents, whose 
Veracity none that know them doubt of. 

She was born in March, in the year 1731. About the latter 
end of April, or beginning of May, 1735, she was greatly afifected 
by the talk of her Brother, who had been hopefully converted a 
little before, at about eleven years of Age, and then seriously 
talked to her about the great Things of Religion. Her Parents did 
not know of it at that time, and were not wont, in the Counsels 



JONATHAN EDWARDS 287 

they gave to their Children, particularly to direct themselves to 
her, by reason of her being so young, and as they supposed not 
capable of Understanding: but after her Brother had talked to 
her, they observed her very earnestly to listen to the Advice 
they gave to the other Children; and she was observed very 
constantly to retire, several times in a Day, as was concluded, 
for secret Prayer; and grew more and more engaged in Religion, 
and was more frequent in her Closet; till at last she was wont 
to visit it five or six times in a Day: and was so engaged in it, 
that nothing would at any Time divert her from her stated Closet 
Exercises. Her Mother often observed and watched her, when 
such Things occurr'd, as she thought most likely to divert her, 
either by putting it out of her Thoughts, or otherwise engaging 
her Inclinations ; but never could observe her to fail. She men- 
tion'd some very remarkable Instances. 

She once of her own accord spake of her Unsuccessfulness, in 
that she could not find God, or to that purpose. But on Thurs- 
day, the last Day of July, about the middle of the Day, the Child 
being in the Closet, where it used to retire, its Mother heard it 
speaking aloud; which was unusual, and never had been ob- 
served before: And her Voice seemed to be as of one exceeding 
importunate and engaged; but her Mother could distinctly hear 
only these Words, (spoken in her childish Manner, but seemed 
to be spoken \vith extraordinary earnestness, and out of Distress 
of Soul) Pray BLESSED LORD give me Salvation! I PRAY, 
BEG pardon all my Sins! When the Child had done Prayer, 
she came out of the Closet, and came and sat down by her Mother, 
and cried out aloud. Her Mother very earnestly asked her 
several times, what the matter was, before she would make any 
Answer; but she continued exceedingly crying, and wreathing her 
Body to and fro, like one in Anguish of Spirit. Her Mother then 
asked her, whether she was afraid that God would not give her 
Salvation. She then answered yes, I am afraid I shall go to Hell 1 
Her Mother then endeavoured to quiet her, and told her she would 
not have her cry, she must he a good Girl, and pray every Day, 
and she hoped God would give her Salvation. But this did not 
quiet her at all; but she continued thus earnestly crying and 
taking on for some time, till at length she suddenly ceased crying, 



288 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

and began to smile, and presently said with a smiling Coun- 
tenance, MotJier, the Kingdom of Heaven is come to me/ Her 
Mother was surprised at the sudden Alteration, and at the Speech ; 
and knew not what to make of it, but at first said nothing to her. 
The Child presently spake again, and said, there is another come 
to me, and there is another, there is three; and being asked what 
she meant, she answered, one is, Thy will be done, and there is 
another, Enjoy him for ever; by which it seems that when the 
Child said there is three come to me, she meant three Passages of 
its Catechism that came to her Mind. 

After the Child had said this, she retired again into her Closet; 
and her Mother went over to her Brother's, who was next Neigh- 
bour; and when she came back, the Child, being come out of 
the Closet, meets her Mother with this chearful Speech, / can 
find God now! referring to what she had before complained of 
that she could not find God. Then the Child spoke again, and 
said, / love God! her Mother asked her, how well she loved God, 
whether she loved God better than her Father and Mother, she 
said yes. Then she asked her whether she loved God better than 
her little Sister Rachael. She answered yes, better than anything! 
Then her eldest Sister, referring to her saying she co\x\6. find God 
now, asked her where she could find God. She answered in 
Heaven: Why, said she, have you been in Heaven? No, said 
the Child. By this it seems not to have been any Imagination 
of any thing seen with bodily Eyes, that she called God, when 
she said I can find God now. Her Mother asked her whether 
she was afraid of going to Hell, and that had made her cry. She 
answered, yes, I was; but now I shan't. Her Mother asked her 
whether she thought that God had given her Salvation: She 
answered yes. Her Mother asked her, when. She answered, 
to-day. She appear'd all that Afternoon exceeding chearful and 
joyful. One of the Neighbours asked her, how she felt herself? 
She answer'd, I feel better than I did. The Neighbour asked her, 
what made her feel better: She answered, God makes me. That 
Evening as she lay a-bed, she called one of her little Cousins to 
her that was present in the Room, as having something to say to 
him ; and when he came, she told him, that Heaven was better 
than Earth. The next day being Friday, her Mother asking her 



JONATHAN EDWARDS 289 

her Catechism, asked her what God made hex for: She answered 
to serve him, and added, every body should serve God, and get an 
Interest in Christ. 

The same Day the elder Children, when they came home 
from School, seemed much affected with the extraordinary Change 
that seemed to be made in Phehe: And her Sister Abigail stand- 
ing by, her Mother took occasion to counsel her, now to improve 
her Time, to prepare for another World: On which Phebe burst 
out in Tears, and cried out Poor Nabby! Her Mother told her 
she would not have her cry, she hoped that God would give 
Nabby Salvation; but that did not quiet her, but she continued 
earnestly crying for some time; and when she had in a measure 
ceased, her Sister Eunice being by her, she burst out again, and 
cried Poor Eunice! and cried exceedingly; and when she had 
almost done, she went into another Room, and there looked upon 
her Sister Naomi: and burst out again, crying Poor Amy! Her 
Mother was greatly affected at such a Behaviour in the Child, 
and knew not what to say to her. One of the Neighbours coming 
in a Httle after, asked her what she had cried for. She seemed at 
first backward to tell the Reason : her Mother told her she might 
tell that Person, for he had given her an Apple: Upon which 
she said, she cried because she was afraid they would go to Hell. 

At Night a certain Minister, that was occasionally in the Town, 
was at the House, and talked considerably with her, of the Things 
of Religion ; and after he was gone she sat leaning on the Table, 
with Tears running out of her Eyes: And being asked what 
made her cry, she said it was thinking about Cod. The next Day 
being Saturday, she seemed great part of the Day to be in a very 
affectionate Frame, had four turns of Crying, and seemed to en- 
deavour to curb herself, and hide her Tears, and was very back- 
ward to talk of the occasion of it. On the Sabbath Day she was 
asked whether she believed in God; she answered yes: And 
being told that Christ was the Son of God, she made ready An- 
swer, and said, / know it. 

From this Time there has appeared a very remarkable abiding 
Change in the Child: She has been very strict upon the Sabbath; 
and seems to long for the Sabbath Day before it comes, and will 
often in the Week-time be enquiring how long it is to the Sabbath 



290 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

Day, and must have the Days particularly counted over that are 
between, before she will be contented. And she seems to love 
God's House, is very eager to go thither : Her Mother once asked 
her why she had such a Mind to go? whether it was not to see 
fine Folks? She said no, it was to hear Mr. Edwards preach. 
When she is in the place of Worship, she is very far from spend- 
ing her Time there as Children at her Age usually do, but appears 
with an Attention that is very extraordinary for such a Child. 
She also appears very desirous at all Opportunities to go to private 
religious Meetings; and is very still and attentive at Home, in 
Prayer-time, and has appeared affected in time of Family-Prayer. 
She seems to delight much in hearing religious Conversation: 
When I once was there with some others that were Strangers, 
and talked to her something of Religion, she seemed more than 
ordinarily attentive; and when we were gone, she looked out 
very wistly after us, and said, I wish they would come again/ 
Her Mother asked her why: Says she, 7 love to hear them talk! 
She seems to have very much of the Fear of God before her 
Eyes, and an extraordinary Dread of Sin against him; of which 
her Mother mentioned the following remarkable Instance. Some- 
time in August, the last Year, she went with some bigger Children, 
to get some Plumbs, in a Neighbour's Lot, knowing nothing of 
any harm in what she did; but when she brought some of the 
Plumbs into the House, her Mother mildly reproved her, and 
told her that she must not get Plumbs without leave, because it 
was Sin: God had commanded her not to steal. The Child seemed 
greatly surprized, and burst out into Tears, and cried out, I 
won't have these Plumbs I and turning to her Sister Eunice, very 
earnestly said to her, why did you ask me to go to that Plumb- 
Tree? I should not have gone if you' had not asked me. The 
other Children did not seem to be much afifected or concerned; 
but there was no pacifying Phebe. Her Mother told her she 
might go and ask leave, and then it would not be sin for her to 
eat them; and sent one of the Children to that end; and when 
she returned, her Mother told her that the Owner had given 
leave, now she might eat them, and it would not be stealing. 
This still'd her a little while; but presently she broke out again 
into an exceeding Fit of Crying: Her Mother asked her what 



JONATHAN EDWARDS 291 

made her cry again? Why she cried now, since they had asked 
leave? What it was that troubled her now? And asked her 
several times very earnestly, before she made any Answer; but 
at last said, it was because, BECAUSE IT WAS SIN. She con- 
tinued a considerable time crying; and said she would not go 
again if Eunice asked her an hundred Times; and she retained 
her Aversion to that Fruit for a considerable time, under the 

remembrance of her former Sin. i 

/ ,.--■ 

CONCERNING THE NOTION OF LIBERTY, AND OF 
MORAL AGENCY 

[From the "Treatise on the Freedom of the Will"] 

The plain and obvious Meaning of the Words Freedom and 
Liberty, in common Speech, is Power, Opportunity, or Advantage, 
that any one has, to do as he pleases. Or in other Words, his 
being free from Hindrance or Impediment in the Way of doing, 
or conducting in any Respect, as he wills.^ And the contrary to 
Liberty, whatever Name we call that by, is a Person's being 
hinder'd or unable to conduct as he will, or being necessitated to 
do otherwise. 

If this which I have mentioned be the Meaning of the Word 
Liberty, in the ordinary Use of Language; as I trust that none 
that has ever learn'd to talk, and is unprejudiced, will deny; 
then it wdll follow, that in Propriety of Speech, neither Liberty, 
nor it's contrary, can properly be ascribed to any Being or Thing, 
but that which has such a Faculty, Power or Property, as is 
called Will. For that which is possessed of no such Thing as 
Will, can't have any Power or Opportunity of doing according to 
ifs Will, nor be necessitated to act contrary to its Will, nor be 
restrained from acting agreeably to it. And therefore to talk of 
Liberty, or the contrary, as belonging to the very Will itself, is 
not to speak good Sense; if we judge of Sense, and Nonsense, 
by the original & proper Signification of Words. For the Will 

^ I say not only doing, but conducting; because a voluntary forbearing to do, 
sitting still, keeping Silence &c. are Instances of Persons Conduct, about which 
Liberty is exercised; tho' they are not so properly called doing. 



292 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

it self is not an Agent that has a Will: The Power of choosing, it 
self, has not a Power of chusing. That which has the Power of 
Volition or Choice is the Man or the Soul, and not the Power of 
Volition it self. And he that has the Liberty of doing according 
to his Will, is the Agent or Doer who is possessed of the Will; 
and not the Will which he is possessed of. We say with Pro- 
priety, that a Bird let loose has Power & Liberty to fly; but not 
that the Bird's Power of flying has a Power & Liberty of flying. 
To be free is the Property of an Agent, who is possessed of Powers 
& Faculties, as much as to be cunning, valiant, bountiful, or 
zealous. But these Qualities are the Properties of Men or Per- 
sons ; and not the Properties of Properties. 

There are two Things that are contrary to this which is called 
Liberty in common Speech. One is Constraint; the same is 
otherwise called Force, Compulsion, & Coaction; which is a 
Person's being necessitated to do a Thing contrary to his Will. 
The other is Restraint; which is his being hindred, and not hav- 
ing Power to do according to his Will. But that which has no 
Will, can't be the Subject of these Things. — I need say the less 
on this Head, Mr. Locke having set the same Thing forth, with 
so great Clearness, in his Essay on tJie human Understanding. 

But one Thing more I would observe concerning what is vul- 
garly called Liberty; namely, that Power & Opportunity for one 
to do and conduct as he will, or according to his Choice, is all 
that is meant by it; without taking into the Meaning of the 
Word, any Thing of the Cause or Original of that Choice; or at 
all considering how the Person came to have such a Volition; 
whether it was caused by some external Motive, or internal habitual 
Bias; whether it was determin'd by some internal antecedent 
Volition, or whether it happen'd without a Cause; whether it 
was necessarily connected with something foregoing, or not con- 
nected. Let the Person come by his Volition or Choice how he 
will, yet, if he is able, and there is Nothing in the Way to 
hinder his pursuing and executing his Will, the Man is fully & 
perfectly free, according to the primary and common Notion of 
Freedom. 

What has been said may be sufl&cient to shew what is meant by 
Liberty, according to the common Notions of Mankind, and in 



JONATHAN EDWARDS 293 

the usual & primary Acceptation of the Word : But the Word, as 
used by Arminians, Pelagians, & others, who oppose the Cal- 
vinists, has an entirely different Signification. — These several 
Things belong to their Notion of Liberty. 

I. That it consists in a Self-determining Power in the Will, or 
a certain Sovereignty the Will has over it self, and it's own Acts, 
whereby it determines its own VoHtions ; so as not to be depen- 
dent in it's Determinations, on any Cause without it self, nor deter- 
mined by any Thing prior to it's own Acts. 2. Indifference he- 
longs to Liberty in their Notion of it, or that the Mind, previous 
to the Act of Volition be, in iquilibrio. 3. Contingence is another 
Thing that belongs and is essential to it; not in the common 
Acceptation of the Word, as that has been already explain'd, but 
as opposed to all Necessity, or any fixed & certain Connection 
with some previous Ground or Reason of its Existence. They 
suppose the Essence of Liberty so much to consist in these Things, 
that unless the Will of Man be free in this Sense, he has no real 
Freedom, bow much soever he may be at Liberty to act according 
to his Will. 

A moral Agent is a Being that is capable of those Actions that 
have a moral QuaHty, and which can properly be denominated 
good or evil in a moral Sense, vertuous or vicious, commendable 
or faulty. To moral Agency belongs a moral Faculty, or Sense of 
moral Good & Evil, or of such a Thing as Desert or Worthiness 
of Praise or Blame, Reward or Punishment ; and a Capacity which 
an Agent has of being influenced in his Actions by moral Induce- 
ments or Motives, exhibited to the View of Understanding & 
Reason, to engage to a Conduct agreable to the moral Faculty. 

The Sun is very excellent & beneficial in it's Action and Influ- 
ence on the Earth, in warming it, and causing it to bring forth it's 
Fruits; but it is not a moral Agent: It's Action, tho' good, is not 
vertuous or meritorious. Fire that breaks out in a City, and con- 
sumes great Part of it, is very mischievous in its Operation; but 
is not a moral Agent: what it does is not faulty or sinful, or de- 
serving of any Punishment. The brute Creatures are not moral 
Agents: the Actions of some of 'em are very profitable & pleas- 
ant; others are very hurtful: yet, seeing they have no moral Fac- 
ulty, or Sense of Desert, and don't act from Choice guided by 



294 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS I 

Understanding, or with a Capacity of reasoning and reflecting, but 
only from Instinct, and are not capable of being influenced by 
moral Inducements, their Actions are not properly sinful or ver- 
tuous; nor are they properly the Subjects of any such moral 
Treatment for what they do, as moral Agents are for their Faults 
or good Deeds. 



THOMAS GODFREY 

[Thomas Godfrey's fame rests largely on the fact that he was the author 
of the first tragedy written and acted in America, but he deserves to be 
remembered for the intrinsic merit, or at least promise, of some of his per- 
formances. He was born in Philadelphia in 1736, and died in North Caro- 
lina before reaching the age of twenty-seven. His father, who bore the same 
name, was a glazier of mathematical proclivities whose memory is preserved 
in Franklin's "Autobiography." Thomas Godfrey the younger received 
but a slight education, and was apprenticed to a watchmaker, and afterward 
engaged in business. Some of his shorter poems were published in the 
American Magazine during his lifetime. The majority are in the heroic 
couplet, but the author attempted a variety of metres. It is noteworthy that, 
writing when he did, and of course following Pope and Dryden to a con- 
siderable extent, he was influenced by the more musical masters of English 
verse. The "Assembly of Birds" is a paraphrase of Chaucer's "Parliament 
of Foules," and "The Court of Fancy" shows indebtedness to the same 
poet's "Hous of Fame." There are evident echoes of Milton, and hints of 
the influence of Spenser. Godfrey's tragedy, "The Prince of Parthia," was 
written shortly before his death, and was performed in Philadelphia in 1767. 
It is not certain that the author ever saw a play on the stage, and his reading 
in the dramatists could not have been extensive. "The Prince of Parthia" 
is a bloody story of ambition, the jealousy of man and woman, and revenge, 
and is almost ludicrously crude in many ways; but it is interesting as an 
attempt, unprecedented in America, at one of the higher forms of compo- 
sition. 

The selections are from the only edition of Godfrey's works, which were 
collected by his friend Nathaniel Evans and published in Philadelphia under 
the title "Juvenile Poems on Various Subjects, with the Prince of Parthia, 
a Tragedy," in 1765.] 

PASTORAL 

[To Dr. J — K — SL — Y, jun.] 

The young Alexis drove his bleating Flock 
To the sea's side, where seated on a rock, 
That over-look 'd the wave, in pensive mood, 
He threw his eyes along the azure flood; 

295 



296 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

His sadn'd brow well anxious care express'd, 
And oft the sigh would heave his youthful breast, 
His flock neglected rang'd around him wide, 
And useless now his pipe hung by his side. 

Calm was the sea, the sky appear'd serene. 
No angry storms deform 'd the pleasing scene; 
Hush'd in their caves the ruder winds were laid, 
And only gentle western breezes play'd. 
Gay beauty round seem'd blooming ev'ry where. 
And the bright scene half rob'd him of his care. 
When a gay bark with spreading sails display'd, 
Appear'd to view, in garlands rich array'd. 
Swift o'er the waves with eagle's speed she glides, 
And sportive dolphins wanton'd by her sides, 
Aloft in air the silken streamers flew, 
While the shrill music chear'd the jovial crew. 

Oh ! thou, from whose blest skill our bodies find 
Sweet ease, behold the sickness of the mind: 
See, with what force, love sways the youthful heart, 
Love, which still triumphs o'er thy heav'nly art. 

Alexis thus — the seaman's life how blest ! 
No anxious thoughts disturb his peaceful breast. 
Free as the wind from shore to shore he roves, 
Tastes ev'ry sweet, and ev'ry bliss improves. 
He wears no haughty beauty's servile chain. 
Nor heeds a Delia's frown or cold disdain; 
Why was I form'd with such an abject mind. 
Slave to a Fair the proudest of her kind? 

Then sudden all the heav'ns appear'd o'erspread, 
And the loud thunder shook the Ocean's bed. 
While streaming lightning dreadful fir'd the sky. 
And the rough billows tost their heads on high: 
Now to the heav'ns the giddy bark is rear'd. 
And as fam'd Argo's rival there appear'd; 



THOMAS GODFREY 397 

And then as sudden from th' amazing height 
Sunk midst the watry vales, and shun'd the sight; 
While from her shatter'd masts the rude winds bear 
Sails, cords and streamers, wildly thro' the air. 

The Shepherd thus, ah ! faithless cruel sea, 
Thus Delia smil'd, and thus she did betray. 
Caught by the pleasing views, I left the shore. 
And gave my peace to seas untry'd before; 
But soon, too soon the pleasing prospects fled, 
And swelling waves and tempests did succeed. 
Witness, ye groves, and eke, ye pow'rs divine, 
How oft she's sworn her faithless heart was mine. 
Now, fir'd by female pride, she scorns the truth. 
And gives to wealthy Ageon her youth. 
He's rich in num'rous flocks, scarce knows his store, 
My love is all, nor can I boast of more. 

How oft I've led her thro' the shady grove, 
While both our souls seem'd join'd in mutual love ! 
Ah ! then the Sirens softness grac'd her tongue. 
While quiv'ring on the pleasing sounds I hung. 
Such were the sounds which 'woke the slumb'ring shade. 
Such were the sounds which rais'd her from the dead ! 
Such were the sounds of Amphion's charming lyre. 
And such the music of the heav'nly quire ! 

How oft when seated by the chrystal flood, 
Pleas'd would we captivate the finny brood ! 
There in the floating mirror would I trace 
Each striking beauty of her angel face. 
Her cheek embellish'd with the rosy die. 
Her ruby lip, and heav'nly sparkHng eye, 
'Til some rude wind would o'er the surface pass. 
And envious snatch the beauteous mimic face. 
How great the change ! — and then he starting spy'd 
Her body floating on the boist'rous tide. 



298 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

And by the charmer's side the wild waves bore, 
Still link'd in death, Ageon to the shore. 

But, oh ! how fiU'd with terror at the sight ! 
His eyes were veil'd in endless shades of night. 
Cold was her breast, quick fleeting life had fled, 
And on her faded cheeks the rose lay dead. 
Fix'd like a figur'd stone awhile he stood, 
And gave the tear with anguish to the flood; 
Then frantic clasp 'd her midst the briny lave. 
And dash'd with anger each intruding wave: 
He eager prest her lips, now pale and wet. 
But for his warmth a deadly coldness met; 
Tho' once with ruby lustre bright they shone, 
Their glow was lost, and all their sweetness gone. 
Now welcome death, the lovesick Shepherd cry'dj 
And fainting on her clay-cold bosom dy'd. 



SONG 



When in Celiacs heavn'ly Eye 
Soft inviting Love I spy, 
Tho' you say 'tis all a cheat, 
I must clasp the dear deceit. 



Why should I more knowledge gain. 
When it only gives me pain? 
If deceiv'd I'm still at rest, 
In the sweet Delusion blest. 



THOMAS GODFREY 299 

THE TRIALS OF VIRTUE 

[From "The Prince of Parthia" '] 

ACT IV, Scene VII. 
Arsaces, Barzaphernes, and Gotarzes. 

Barzaphernes. At length we've forc'd our entrance — 

my lov'd Prince ! to see thee thus, indeed, 
Melts e'en me to a woman's softness; see 
My eyes o'erflow — Are these the ornaments 
For Royal hands ? rude manacles ! oh shameful ! 
Is this thy room of state, this gloomy goal ? 
Without attendance, and thy bed the pavement? 
But, ah ! how diff'rent was our parting last ! 

When flush 'd with vict'ry, reeking from the slaughter, 
You saw Arabia's Sons scour o'er the plain 
In shameful flight, before your conqu'ring sword; 
Then shone you like the God of battle. 

Arsaces. Welcome ! — 

Welcome my loyal friends ! Barzaphernes ! 
My good old soldier, to my bosom thus ! 
Gotarzes, my lov'd Brother ! now I'm happy. — 
But, say, my soldier, why these threatning arms? 
Why am I thus releas'd by force? my Father, 

1 should have said the King, had he relented. 
He'd not have us'd this method to enlarge me. 
Alas ! I fear, too forward in your love, 
You'll brand me with the rebel's hated name. 

Barzaphernes. I am by nature blunt — the soldier's manner. 
Unus'd to the soft arts practis'd at courts. 

[' Arsaces, Prince of Parthia, returned from his victory over the Arabians to 
find himself hated by his younger brother Vardanes, who was jealous both of 
his triumphs in war, and of his success in winning the love of Evanthe. Before 
the opening of this scene, Vardanes has persuaded King Artabanus to imprison 
Arsaces on a false suspicion, and has then caused the murder of the king, and 
taken Evanthe prisoner. These proceedings Vardanes thinks to keep secret until 
he has killed Arsaces and usurped the kingdom; but intelligence has been carried 
to Barzaphernes, Arsaces's Lieutenant-General, who has hastened to the relief 
of the Prince.] 



3CXJ EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

Nor can I move the passions, or disguise 
The sorr'wing tale to mitigate the smart. 
Then seek it not: I would sound the alarm, 
Loud as the trumpet's clangour, in your ears; 
Nor will I hail you, as our Parthia's King, 
'Til you've full reveng'd your Father's murther. 

Arsaces. Murther ? — good heav'n ! 

Barzaphernes. The tale requires some time; 
And opportunity must not be lost; 
Your traitor Brother, who usurps your rights, 
Must, ere his faction gathers to a head, 
Have from his brows his new-born honours torn. 

Arsaces. What, dost thou say, murther'd by Vardanes? 
Impious parricide ! — detested villain ! — 
Give me a sword, and onward to the charge, 
Stop gushing tears, for I will weep in blood, 
And sorrow with the groans of dying men. — 
Revenge ! revenge ! — oh ! — all my soul's on fire ! 

GoTARZES. 'Twas not Vardanes struck the fatal blow. 
Though, great in pow'r usurp'd, he dares support 
The actor, vengeful Lysias; to his breast 
He clasps, with grateful joy, the bloody villain; 
Who soon meant, with ruffian wiles, to cut 
You from the earth, and also me. 

Arsaces. Just heav'ns ! — 

But, gentle Brother, how didst thou elude 
The vigilant, suspicious, tyrant's craft. 

GoTARZES. Phraates, by an accident, obtain'd] 
The knowledge of the deed, and warn'd by him 
I bent my flight toward the camp, to seek 
Protection and revenge; but scarce I'd left 
The city when I o'ertook the General. 

Barzaphernes. 'Ere the sun 'rose I gain'd th' intelligence: 
The soldiers when they heard the dreadful tale. 
First stood aghast, and motionless with horror. 
Then suddenly, inspir'd with noble rage. 
Tore up their ensigns, calling on their leaders 
To march them to the city instantly. 



THOMAS GODFREY 30I 

I, with some trusty few, with speed came forward, 

To raise our friends within, and gain your freedom. 

Nor hazard longer, by delays, your safety. 

Already faithful Phraates has gain'd 

A num'rous party of the citizens; 

With these we mean t'attack the Royal Palace, 

Crush the bold tyrant with surprize, while sunk 

In false security; and vengeance wreck, 

'Ere that he thinks the impious crime be known. 

Arsaces. O ! parent being, Ruler of yon heav'nl 
Who bade creation spring to order, hear me. 
What ever sins are laid upon my soul. 
Now let them not prove heavy on this day, 
To sink my arm, or violate my cause. 
The sacred rights of Kings, my Country's wrongs, 
The punishment of fierce impiety, 
And a lov'd Father's death, call forth my sword. — 

Now on; I feel all calm within my breast, 
And ev'ry busy doubt is hush'd to rest; 
Smile heav'n propitious on my virtuous cause, 
Nor aid the wretch who dares disdain your laws. 

END of the Fourth ACT. 

ACT V, Scene I. 

The PALACE. 

The Curtain rises, slowly, to soft music, and discovers Evanthe 
sleeping on a Sofa; after the music ceases, Vardanes enters. 

Vardanes. Now shining Empire standing at the goal, 
Beck'ns me forward to increase my speed; 
But, yet, Arsaces lives, bane to my hopes, 
Lysias I'll urge to ease me of his life. 
Then give the villain up to punishment. 
The shew of justice gains the changeling croud. 
Besides, I ne'er will harbour in my bosom 
Such serpents, ever ready with their stings — 



302 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

But now one hour for love and fair Evanthe — 

Hence with ambition's cares — see, where reclin'd, 

In slumbers ail her sorrows are dismiss'd, 

Sleep seems to heighten ev'ry beauteous feature, 

And adds peculiar softness to each grace. 

She weeps — in dreams some lively sorrow pains her — 

I'll take one kiss — oh ! what a balmy sweetness! 

Give me another — and another still — 

For ever thus I'd dwell upon her lips. 

Be still my heart, and calm unruly transports. — 

Wake her, with music, from this mimic death. [Music sounds.] 

Song 

Tell me, Phillis, tell me why. 

You appear so wond'rous coy, 
When that glow, and sparkling eye, 

Speak you want to taste the joy ? 
Prithee give this fooling o'er. 
Nor torment your lover more. 

While youth is warm within our veins, 

And nature tempts us to be gay. 
Give to pleasure loose the reins. 

Love and youth fly swift away. 
Youth in pleasure should be spent, 
Age will come, we'll then repent. 

Evanthe (waking) I come ye lovely shades — Ha ! am I here? 
Still in the tyrant's palace? Ye bright pow'rs! 
Are all my blessings then but vis'onary? 
Methought I was arriv'd on that blest shore 
Where happy souls for ever dwell, crown'd with 
Immortal bliss; Arsaces led me through 
The flow'ry groves, while all around me gleam'd 
Thousand and thousand shades, who welcom'd me 
With pleasing songs of joy — Vardanes, ha ! — 

Vardanes. Why beams the angry lightning of thine eye 



THOMAS GODFREY 303 

Against thy sighing slave? Is love a crime? 
Oh ! if to dote, with such excess of passion 
As rises e'en to mad extravagance 
Is criminal, I then am so, indeed. 

EvANTHE. Away ! vile man ! — 

Vardanes. If to pursue thee e'er 

With all the humblest offices of love. 
If ne'er to know one single thought that does 
Not bear thy bright idea, merits scorn — 

EvANTHE. Hence from my sight — nor let me, thus, pollute 
Mine eyes, with looking on a wretch like thee, 
Thou cause of all my ills; I sicken at 
Thy loathsome presence — 

Vardanes. 'Tis not always thus, 

Nor dost thou ever meet the sounds of love 
With rage and fierce disdain: Arsaces, soon. 
Could smooth thy brow, and melt thy icy breast. 

EvANTHE. Ha! does it gall thee? Yes, he could, he could; 
Oh ! when he speaks, such sweetness dwells upon 
His accents, all my soul dissolves to love, 
And warm desire ; such truth and beauty join'd ! 
His looks are soft and kind, such gentleness 
Such virtue swells his bosom ! in his eye 
Sits majesty, commanding ev'ry heart. 
Strait as the pine, the pride of all the grove. 
More blooming than the spring, and sweeter far, 
Than asphodels or roses infant sweets. 
Oh ! I could dwell forever on his praise, 
Yet think eternity was scarce enough 
To tell the mighty theme; here in my breast 
His image dwells, but one dear thought of him, 
When fancy paints his Person to my eye, 
As he was wont in tenderness dissolv'd, 
Sighing his vows, or kneeling at my feet, 
Wipes off all mem'ry of my wretchedness. 

Vardanes. I know this brav'ry is affected, yet 
It gives me joy, to think my rival only 
Can in imagination taste thy beauties. 



304 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

Let him, — 'twill ease him in his solitude, 
And gild the horrors of his prison-house. 
Till death shall — 

EvANTHE. Ha ! what was that? till death — ye Gods! 

Ah, now I feel distress's tort'ring pang — 
Thou canst not villain — darst not think his death — 
O mis'ry ! — 

Vardanes. Naught but your kindness saves him. 
Yet bless me, with your love, and he is safe; 
But the same frown which kills my growing hopes, 
Gives him to death. 



JOHN WOOLMAN 

[John Woolman, the Quaker, possessed a personal simplicity and a 
purity of heart that give great charm to his impracticaliy idealistic writings. 
He was born in Northampton, N. J., in 1720, and passed his boyhood 
on a farm. During the greater part of his adult life he travelled among the 
Friends in different parts of America, speaking at their meetings, conversing 
with them personally, and working with especial vigor against slave-holding, 
which was then practised by some members of the society. On these trips 
he supported himself by working at his trade, that of a tailor, and some- 
times by acting as a clerk or notary and drawing wills and other papers. In 
1772 he went on a visit to the Quakers in England, and died of the small- 
pox in the city of York soon after his arrival. During his lifetime he pub- 
lished a few tracts, and his "Works" in two parts were issued in Philadelphia 
after his death. The most important of his writings is his " Journal," 
which has been many times reprinted. The selections here given are from 
the edition by J. G. Whittier, published in 1871.] 

THE WEARING OF DYED GARMENTS 

[From the "Journal"] 

The use of hats and garments dyed with a dye hurtful to them, 
and wearing more clothes in summer than are useful, grew more 
uneasy to me, believing them to be customs which have not their 
foundation in pure wisdom. The apprehension of being singular 
from my beloved friends was a strait upon me, and thus I con- 
tinued in the use of some things contrary to my judgment. 

On the 31st of fifth month, 1761, I was taken ill of a fever, and 
after it had continued near a week I was in great distress of body. 
One day there was a cry raised in me that I might understand the 
cause of my affliction, and improve under it, and my conformity 
to some customs which I believed were not right was brought to 
my remembrance. In the continuance of this exercise I felt all 
the powers in me yield themselves up into the hands of Him who 
gave me being, and was made thankful that he had taken hold of 
tm by his chastisements. Feeling the necessity of further purify- 
X 305 



3o6 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

ing, there was now no desire in me for health until the design of 
my correction was answered. Thus I lay in abasement and broken- 
ness of spirit, and as I felt a sinking down into a calm resignation, 
so I felt, as in an instant, an inward healing in my nature; and 
from that time forward I grew better. 

Though my mind was thus settled in relation to hurtful dyes, 
I felt easy to wear my garments heretofore made, and continued 
to do so about nine months. Then I thought of getting a hat the 
natural color of the fur, but the apprehension of being looked upon 
as one affecting singularity felt uneasy to me. Here I had occa- 
sion to consider that things, though small in themselves, being- 
clearly enjoined by Divine authority, become great things to us; 
and I trusted that the Lord would support me in the trials that 
might attend singularity, so long as singularity was only for his 
sake. On this account I was under close exercise of mind in the 
time of our General Spring Meeting, 1762, greatly desiring to be 
rightly directed; when, being deeply bowed in spirit before the 
Lord, I was made willing to submit to what I apprehended was 
required of me, and when I returned home got a hat of the natural 
color of the fur. 

In attending meetings this singularity was a trial to me, and 
more especially at this time, as white hats were used by some who 
were fond of following the changeable modes of dress, and as some 
Friends who knew not from what motives I wore it grew shy of 
me, I felt my way for a time shut up in the exercise of the ministry. 
In this condition, my mind being turned toward my Heavenly 
Father with fervent cries that I might be preserved to walk before 
him in the meekness of wisdom, my heart was often tender in meet- 
ings, and I felt an inward consolation which to me was very pre- 
cious under these difficulties. 

I had several dyed garments fit for use which I believed it best 
to wear till I had occasion for new ones. Some Friends were 
apprehensive that my wearing such a hat savored of an afifected 
singularity; those who spoke with me in a friendly way I gener- 
ally informed, in a few words, that I believed my wearing it was 
not in my own will. I had at times been sensible that a super- 
ficial friendship had been dangerous to me; and many Friends 
being now uneasy with me, I had an inclination to acquaint some 



JOHN WOOLMAN 307 

with the manner of my being led into these things; yet upon a 
deeper thought I was for a time most easy to omit it, believing the 
present dispensation was profitable, and trusting that if I kept my 
place the Lord in his own time would open the hearts of Friends 
towards me. I have since had cause to admire his goodness and 
loving-kindness in leading about and instructing me, and in open- 
ing and enlarging my heart in some of our meetings. 

A SEA VOYAGE 

[From the "Journal"] 

Having been some time under a religious concern to prepare 
for crossing the seas, in order to visit Friends in the northern parts 
of England, and more particularly in Yorkshire, after considera- 
tion I thought it expedient to inform Friends of it at our Monthly 
Meeting at Burlington, who, having unity vdth me therein, gave 
me a certificate. I afterwards communicated the same to our 
Quarterly Meeting, and they likewise certified their concurrence. 
Some time after, at the General Spring Meeting of ministers and 
elders, I thought it my duty to acquaint them with the religious 
exercise which attended my mind ; and they likewise signified their 
unity therewith by a certificate, dated the 24th of third month, 1772, 
directed to Friends in Great Britain. 

In the fourth month following I thought the time was come for 
me to make some inquiry for a suitable conveyance; and as my 
concern was principally towards the northern parts of England, 
it seemed most proper to go in a vessel bound to Liverpool or 
Whitehaven. While I was at Philadelphia deliberating on this 
subject I was informed that my beloved friend Samuel Emlen, 
junior, intended to go to London, and had taken a passage for 
himself in the cabin of the ship called the Mary and Elizabeth, 
of which James Sparks was master, and John Head, of the city 
of Philadelphia, one of the owners; and feeling a draught in my 
mind towards the steerage of the same ship, I went first and 
opened to Samuel the feeling I had concerning it. 

My beloved friend wept when I spake to him, and appeared 
glad that I had thoughts of going in the vessel with him, though 
my prospect was toward the steerage ; and he offering to go with 



3o8 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

me, we went on board, first into the cabin, — a commodious room, 
— and then into the steerage, where we sat down on a chest, the 
sailors being busy about us. The owner of the ship also came 
■ and sat down with us. My mind was turned towards Christ, the 
Heavenly Counsellor, and feehng at this time my own will sub- 
jected, my heart was contrite before him. A motion was made 
by the owner to go and sit in the cabin, as a place more retired; 
but I felt easy to leave the ship, and, making no agreement as to 
a passage in her, told the owner if I took a passage in the ship I 
believed it would be in the steerage; but did not say much as to 
my exercise in that case. 

After I went to my lodgings, and the case was a little known in 
town, a Friend laid before me the great inconvenience attending a 
passage in the steerage, which for a time appeared very discourag- 
ing to me. 

I soon after went to bed, and my mind was under a deep exercise 
before the Lord, whose helping hand was manifested to me as I 
slept that night, and his love strengthened my heart. In the 
morning I went with two Friends on board the vessel again, and 
after a short time spent therein, I went with Samuel Emlen to 
the house of the owner, to whom, in the hearing of Samuel only, 
I opened my exercise in relation to a scruple I felt with regard to 
a passage in the cabin, in substance as follows : — 

"That on the outside of that part of the ship where the cabin 
was I observed sundry sorts of carved work and imagery; that 
in the cabin I observed some superfluity of workmanship of 
several sorts; and that according to the ways of men's reckoning, 
the sum of money to be paid for a passage in that apartment has 
some relation to the expense of furnishing it to please the minds 
of such as give way to a conformity to this world ; and that in this, 
as in other cases, the moneys received from the passengers are 
calculated to defray the cost of these superfluities, as well as the 
other expenses of their passage. I therefore felt a scruple with 
regard to paying my money to be applied to such purposes." 

As my mind was now opened, I told the owner that I had, at 
several times, in my travels, seen great oppressions on this con- 
tinent, at which my heart had been much affected and brought 
into a feeling of the state of the sufferers ; and having many times 



JOHN WOOLMAN 309 

been engaged in the fear and love of God to labor with those under 
whom the oppressed have been borne down and afiflicted, I have 
often perceived that with a view to get riches and to provide es- 
tates for children, that they may live conformably to the customs 
and honors of this world, many are entangled in the spirit of 
oppression, and the exercise of my soul had been such that I could 
not find peace in joining in anything which I saw was against that 
wisdom which is pure. 

After this I agreed for a passage in the steerage; and hearing 
that Joseph White had desired to see me, I went to his house, and 
next day home, where I tarried two nights. Early the next morn- 
ing I parted with my family under a sense of the humbling hand 
of God upon me, and, going to Philadelphia, had an opportunity 
with several of my beloved friends, who appeared to be concerned 
for me on account of the unpleasant situation of that part of the 
vessel in which I was likely to lodge. In these opportunities my 
mind, through the mercies of the Lord, was kept low in an inward 
waiting for his help; and Friends having expressed their desire 
that I might have a more convenient place than the steerage, did 
not urge it, but appeared disposed to leave me to the Lord. 

Having stayed two nights at Philadelphia, I went the next day 
to Derby Monthly Meeting, where through the strength of Divine 
love my heart was enlarged towards the youth there present, under 
which I was helped to labor in some tenderness of spirit. I lodged 
at William Horn's and afterwards went to Chester, where I met 
with Samuel Emlen, and we went on board ist of fifth month, 1772. 
As I sat alone on the deck I felt a satisfactory evidence that my 
proceedings were not in my own will, but under the power of the 
cross of Christ. 

Seventh of fifth month. — We have had rough weather mostly 
since I came on board, and the passengers, James Reynolds, John 
Till Adams, Sarah Logan and her hired maid, and John Bispham, 
all sea-sick at times ; from which sickness, through the tender mer- 
cies of my Heavenly Father, I have been preserved, my afflictions 
now being of another kind. There appeared an openness in the 
minds of the master of the ship and in the cabin passengers towards 
me. We are often together on the deck, and sometimes in the 
cabin. My mind, through the merciful help of the Lord, hath 



3IO EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

been preserved in a good degree watchful and quiet, for which I 
have great cause to be thankful. 

As my lodging in the steerage, now near a week, hath afforded 
me sundry opportunities of seeing, hearing, and feeling with 
respect to the Ufe and spirit of many poor sailors, an exercise of 
soul hath attended me in regard to placing out children and youth 
where they may be likely to be exampled and instructed in the 
pure fear of the Lord. 

Being much among the seamen I have, from a motion of love, 
taken sundry opportunities with one of them at a time, and have 
in free conversation labored to turn their minds towards the fear 
of the Lord. This day we had a meeting in the cabin, where my 
heart was contrite under a feeUng of Divine love. 

I beheve a communication with different parts of the world by 
sea is at times consistent with the will of our Heavenly Father, 
and to educate some youth in the practice of sailing, I believe 
may be right ; but how lamentable is the present corruption of the 
world! How impure are the channels through which trade is 
conducted! How great is the danger to which poor lads are 
exposed when placed on shipboard to learn the art of sailing! 
Five lads training up for the seas were on board this ship. Two 
of them were brought up in our Society, and the other, by name 
James Naylor, is a member, to whose father James Naylor, men- 
tioned in Sewel's history, appears to have been uncle. I often 
feel a tenderness of heart towards these poor lads, and at times 
look at them as though they were my children according to the 
flesh. 

O that all may take heed and beware of covetousness ! O 
that all may learn of Christ, who was meek and lowly of heart. 
Then in faithfully following him he will teach us to be content 
with food and raiment without respect to the customs or honors 
of this world. Men thus redeemed will feel a tender concern for 
their fellow-creatures, and a desire that those in the lowest sta- 
tions may be assisted and encouraged, and where owners of ships 
attain to the perfect law of liberty and are doers of the Word, these 
will be blessed in their deeds. 

A ship at sea commonly sails all night, and the seamen take 
their watches four hours at a time. Rising to work in the night, 



JOHN WOOLMAN 3II 

it is not commonly pleasant in any case, but in dark rainy nights 
it is very disagreeable, even though each man were furnished with 
all conveniences. If, after having been on deck several hours in 
the night, they come down into the steerage soaking wet, and are 
so closely stowed that proper convenience for change of garments 
is not easily come at, but for want of proper room their wet gar- 
ments are thrown in heaps, and sometimes, through much crowd- 
ing, are trodden under foot in going to their lodgings and getting 
out of them, and it is difficult at times for each to find his own. 
Here are trials for the poor sailors. 

Now, as I have been with them in my lodge, my heart hath 
often yearned for them, and tender desires have been raised in me 
that all owners and masters of vessels may dwell in the love of 
God and therein act uprightly, and by seeking less for gain and 
looking carefully to their ways they may earnestly labor to remove 
all cause of provocation from the poor seamen, so that they may 
neither fret nor use excess of strong drink ; for, indeed, the poor 
creatures, in the wet and cold, seem to apply at times to strong 
drink to supply the want of other convenience. Great reforma- 
tion is wanting in the world, and the necessity of it among those 
who do business on great waters hath at this time been abun- 
dantly opened before me. 

Eighth of fifth month. — This morning the clouds gathered, the 
wind blew strong from the southeast, and before noon so increased 
that sailing appeared dangerous. The seamen then bound up 
some of their sails and took down others, and the storm increasing 
they put the dead-lights, so called, into the cabin windows and 
lighted a lamp as at night. The wind now blew vehemently, and 
the sea wrought to that degree that an awful seriousness pre- 
vailed in the cabin, in which I spent, I believe, about seventeen 
hours, for the cabin passengers had given me frequent invitations, 
and I thought the poor wet toiling seamen had need of all the 
room in the crowded steerage. They now ceased from sailing 
and put the vessel in the posture called lying to. 

My mind during this tempest, through the gracious assistance 
of the Lord, was preserved in a good degree of resignation ; and at 
times I expressed a few words in his love to my shipmates in regard 
to the all-sufficiency of Him who formed the great deep, and whose 



312 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

care is so extensive that a sparrow falls not without his notice; 
and thus in a tender frame of mind I spoke to them of the neces- 
sity of our yielding in true obedience to the instructions of our 
Heavenly Father, who sometimes through adversities intendeth 
our refinement. 

About eleven at night I went out on the deck. The sea wrought 
exceedingly, and the high, foaming waves round about had in 
some sort the appearance of fire, but did not give much if any 
light. The sailor at the helm said he lately saw a corposant at 
the head of the mast. I observed that the master of the ship 
ordered the carpenter to keep on the deck; and, though he said 
little, I apprehended his care was that the carpenter with his axe 
might be in readiness in case of any extremity. Soon after this 
the vehemency of the wind abated, and before morning they again 
put the ship under sail. 

Tenth of fifth month. — It being the first day of the week and 
fine weather, we had a meeting in the cabin, at which most of the 
seamen were present; this meeting was to me a strengthening 
time. 13th. — As I continue to lodge in the steerage I feel an 
openness this morning to express something further of the state 
of my mind in respect to poor lads bound apprentice to learn the 
art of sailing. As I believe saiUng is of use in the world, a labor 
of soul attends me that the pure counsel of truth may be humbly 
waited for in this case by all concerned in the business of the seas. 
A pious father whose mind is exercised for the everlasting weKare 
of his child may not with a peaceable mind place him out to an 
employment among a people whose common course of Hfe is 
manifestly corrupt and profane. Great is the present defect 
among seafaring men in regard to virtue and piety; and, by 
reason of an abundant traffic and many ships being used for war, 
so many people are employed on the sea that the subject of placing 
lads to this employment appears very weighty. 

When I remember the saying of the Most High through his 
prophet, "This people have I formed for myself; they shall show 
forth my praise," and think of placing children among such to 
learn the practice of sailing, the consistency of it with a pious 
education seems to me like that mentioned by the prophet, " There 
is no answer from God." 



JOHN WOOLMAN 313 

Profane examples are very corrupting and very forcible. And 
as my mind day after day and night after night hath been afifected 
with a sympathizing tenderness towards poor children who are 
put to the employment of sailors, I have sometimes had weighty 
conversation with the sailors in the steerage, who were mostly 
respectful to me and became more so the longer I was vidth them. 
They mostly appeared to take kindly what I said to them; but 
their minds were so deeply impressed with the almost universal 
depravity among sailors that the poor creatures in their answers 
to me have revived in my remembrance that of the degenerate 
Jews a little before the captivity, as repeated by Jeremiah the 
prophet, "There is no hope." 



BENJAMIN FRANKLIN 

[The story of Benjamin Franklin's long and eventful life cannot here be 
given in detail. He was born in Boston in 1706, and died in Philadelphia 
in 1790. As a boy he was precocious, and he remained vigorous until his 
death; so that his active career covered a longer period than the lifetime 
of most men. He saw the profoundest changes in politics, social life, and 
scientific thought, and he himself had a part in much that was accomplished 
in these different lines of activity. He was long an influential editor and 
publisher at Philadelphia; he served Pennsylvania in various official capaci- 
ties at home, and as agent in England; he was postmaster-general for the 
colonies, member of the committee which drafted the Declaration of Inde- 
pendence, Minister to France, member of the Peace Commission, and dele- 
gate to the Constitutional Convention; he won international fame for his 
researches in science; he promoted many plans for civic improvements, and 
for the founding of educational and benevolent institutions; and in his 
"Autobiography" he wrote the first American book that is still of wide gen- 
eral interest. 

Franklin's strength and versatility were personal qualities which would 
have been the same anywhere; but it may aid in understanding his charac- 
ter to remember that he was a New Englander who found an opportunity for 
development in the freer atmosphere of Pennsylvania. The intenser reli- 
gious faith and the finer idealism of Puritanism he seems never to have had. 
But he embodied in an unusual degree the shrewdness and practicality of the 
Puritans. In all that concerned practical matters and getting on in the 
world he was a typical Yankee. An unfortunate side of his character is 
seen in many intolerably coarse passages of his writings, and in his ^'errata," 
as, in printer's metaphor, he called his breaches of the moral law. These 
last are to a slight extent redeemed by the frankness with which he confesses 
them, and regrets them. Neither his life nor his writings were such as to 
offer the highest inspiration, and yet few writers have had a stronger influ- 
ence for right living. The secret of this anomaly is that he believed the 
most practical way to make people good was to teach them to be healthy, 
wealthy, and v/ise. 

The collected writings of Franklin fill ten large volumes, and treat a 
great variety of subjects. Most of them are interesting. It is not alone the 
scientist or the historian who will enjoy reading his accounts of electrical 
experiments, or his lively political satires. Still, his fame as an author rests 
mainly on the "Poor Richard Sayings," the "Autobiography," and to a 
lesser degree on a few of the shorter essays or "Bagatelles." The "Poor 
Richard Sayings" were proverbs and brief commentaries on life, originally 

314 



BENJAMIN FRANKLIN 



315 



published in "Poor Richard's Almanack," which Franklin edited for many 
years. Not all these were strictly Franklin's own, but most of those which 
he borrowed he transformed so as to make them pass current. No other 
one author has contributed to the language so many familiar aphorisms on 
practical matters. In 1757 Franklin incorporated many of these sayings 
in "The Way to Wealth," a portion of which is given below. The "Auto- 
biography" was written in four sections, at intervals from 1771 to just 
before the author's death. The first part was intended only for the mem- 
bers of the family, but in writing the latter parts Franklin seems to have 
recognized that they would be published. The charm of the "Autobiog- 
raphy" is due to the naive frankness of the author, and to the absolute clear- 
ness and simplicity of his style. It is one of the few works that interest 
persons of all ages, and all varieties of taste. The "Bagatelles" were slight 
essays written while Franklin was in France, and in some cases privately 
printed in his own house for a small circle of friends. A few of them, such 
as "The Ephemera," "The Whistle," and the "Dialogue between Franklin 
and the Gout," were once generally known; but they are less spontaneous 
than most of the author's work, and to modern readers probably less jjiter- 
esting. 

The selections are all from the latest and most accurate collection of 
Franklin's writings, edited by Albert H. Smyth.] 



POOR RICHARD'S ADVICE 

[From "The Way to Wealth," the Preface to "Poor Richard Improved," 

for 1758] 

Courteous Reader 

I have heard that nothing gives an Author so great Pleasure, 
as to find his Works respectfully quoted by other learned Authors. 
This Pleasure I have seldom enjoyed; for tho' I have been, if 
I may say it without Vanity, an eminent Author of Almanacks 
annually now a full Quarter of a Century, my Brother Authors 
in the same Way, for what Reason I know not, have ever been very 
sparing in their Applauses, and no other Author has taken the 
least Notice of me, so that did not my Writings produce me some 
solid Pudding, the great Deficiency of Praise would have quite 
discouraged me. 

I concluded at length, that the People were the best Judges of 
my Merit; for they buy my Works; and besides, in my Rambles, 
where I am not personally known, I have frequently heard one 
or other of my Adages repeated, with, as Poor Richard says, at 
the End on't; this gave me some Satisfaction, as it showed not 



3l6 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

only that my Instructions were regarded, but discovered likewise 
some Respect for my Authority; and I own, that to encourage 
the Practice of remembering and repeating those wise Sentences, 
I have sometimes quoted myself with great Gravity. 

Judge, then how much I must have been gratified by an Incident 
I am going to relate to you. I stopt my Horse lately where a 
great Number of People were collected at a Vendue of Merchant 
Goods. The Hour of Sale not being come, they were conversing 
on the Badness of the Times and one of the Company call'd to 
a plain clean old Man, with white Locks, " Pray, Father Abraham, 
what think you of the Times? Won't these heavy taxes quite 
ruin the Country? How shall we be ever able to pay them? 
What would you advise us to ?" Father Abraham stood up, and 
reply'd, "If you'd have my Advice, I'll give it you in short, for 
A Word to the Wise is enough, and many Words wonHfill a Bushel, 
as Poor Richard says." They join'd in desiring him to speak his 
Mind, and gathering round him, he proceded as follows; 

"Friends," says he, and Neighbours, "the Taxes are indeed 
very heavy, and if those laid on by the Government were the only 
Ones we had to pay, we might more easily discharge them; but 
we have many others, and much more grevious to some of us. 
We are taxed twice as much by our Idleness, three times as much 
by our Pride, and four times as much by our Folly; and from these 
Taxes the Commissioners cannot ease or deliver us by allowing 
an Abatement. However let us hearken to good Advice, and 
something may be done for us; God helps them that help them- 
selves, as Poor Richard says, in his Almanack of 1733. 

It would be thought a hard Government that should tax its 
People one-tenth Part of their Time, to be employed in its Service. 
But Idleness taxes many of us much more, if we reckon all that 
is spent in absolute Sloth, or doing of nothing, with that which 
is spent in idle Employments or Amusements, that amount to 
nothing. Sloth, by bringing on Diseases, absolutely shortens 
Life. Sloth, like rust, consumes faster than Labour wears; while 
the used Key is always bright, as Poor Richard says. But dost 
thou love Life, then do not squander Time, for that's the stuff Life 
is made of, as Poor Richard says. How much more than is necessary 
do we spend in sleep, forgetting that The sleeping Fox catches no 



BENJAMIN FRANKLIN 317 

Poultry, and that There will be sleeping enough in the Grave, as 
Poor Richard says. 

If Time be of all Things the most precious, wasting Time must 
be, as Poor Richard says, the greatest Prodigality; since, as he 
elsewhere tells us. Lost Time is never found again; and what we 
call Time enough, always proves little enough : Let us then up and 
be doing, and doing to the Purpose ; so by Diligence shall we do 
more with less Perplexity. Sloth makes all Things difficult, but 
Industry all easy, as Poor Richard says; and He that risetJi late 
must trot all Day, and shall scarce overtake his Business at Night; 
while Laziness travels so slowly, that Poverty soon overtakes him, 
as we read in Poor Richard, who adds, Drive thy Business, let 
not that drive thee; and Early to Bed, and early to rise, makes a 
Man healthy, wealthy, and wise. 

So what signifies wishing and hoping for better Times. We 
may make these Times better, if we bestir oursleves. Industry 
need not wish, as Poor Richard says, and he that lives upon Llope 
will die fasting. There are no Gains without Pains; then Help 
Hands, for I have no Lands, or if I have, they are smartly taxed. 
And, as Poor Richard likewise observes, He that hath a Trade 
hath an Estate; and he that hath a Calling, hath an Office of 
Profit and Honour; But then the Trade must be worked at, and 
the Calling well followed, or neither the Estate nor the Office 
will enable us to pay our Taxes. If we are industrious, we shall 
never starve; for, as Poor Richard says. At the working Man's 
House Hunger looks in, but dares not enter. Nor will the Bailiff 
or the Constable enter, for Industry pays Debts, while Despair 
encreaseth them, says Poor Richard. What though you have found 
no Treasure, nor has any rich Relation left you a Legacy, Dili- 
gence is the Mother of Good-luck as Poor Richard says, and God 
gives all Things to Industry. Then plough deep, while Sluggards 
sleep, and you shall have Corn to sell and to keep, says Poor Dick. 
Work while it is called To-day, for you know not how much you 
may be hindered To-morrow, which makes Poor Richard say, 
One to-day is worth two To-morrows, and farther. Have you some- 
what to do To-morrow, do it To-Day. If you were a Servant, 
would you not be ashamed that a good Master should catch you 
idle? Are you then your own Master, be ashamed to catch your- 



3l8 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

self idle, as Poor DickssLys. When there is so much to be done 
for yourself, your Family, your Country, and your gracious King, 
be up by Peep of Day; Let not the Sun look down and say, In- 
glorious here he lies. Handle your Tools without Mittens; re- 
member that The Cat in Gloves catches no Mice, as Poor Richard 
says. 'Tis true there is much to be done, and perhaps you 
are weak-handed, but stick to it steadily; and you will see great 
Effects, for Constant Dropping wears away Stones, and by Dili- 
gence and Patience the Mouse ate in two the Cable; and Little 
Strokes fell great Oaks, as Poor Richard says in his Almanack, 
the Year I cannot just now remember. 

Methinks I hear some of you say. Must a Man afford himself 
no Leisure ? I will tell thee, my friend, what Poor Richard says, 
Employ thy Time well, if thou meanest to gain Leisure; and, since 
thou art not sure of a Minute, throw not away an Plour. Leisure 
is Time for doing something useful; this Leisure the diligent 
Man will obtain, but the lazy Man never; so that, as Poor Richard 
says A Life of Leisure and a Life of Laziness are two Things. Do 
you imagine that Sloth will afford you more Comfort than Labour? 
No, for as Poor Richard says. Trouble springs from Idleness, and 
grevious Toil from needless Ease. Many without Labour, would 
live by their Wits only, but they break for want of Stock. Whereas 
Industry gives Comfort, and Plenty, and Respect : Fly Pleasures, 
and they^ II follow you. The diligent Spinner has a large Shift; 
and now I have a Sheep and a Cow, everybody bids me good Mor- 
row; all which is well said by Poor Richard. 

But with our Industry, we must likewise be steady, settled and 
careful, and oversee our own Affairs with our own Eyes, and not 
trust too much to others; for, as Poor Richard says 

I never saw an oft-removed Tree, 

Nor yet an oft-removed Family, 

That throve so well as those that settled be. 

And again. Three Removes is as bad as a Fire; and again, Keep 
thy Shop, and thy Shop will keep thee; and again. If you would 
have your Business done, go; if not, send. And again, 

He that by the Plough would thrive, 
Himself must either hold or drive. 



BENJAMIN FRANKLIN 



319 



And again, The Eye of a Master will do more work than both his 
Hands; and again, Want of Care does us more Damage than 
Want of Knowledge ; and again, Not to oversee Workmen, is to 
leave them your Purse open. Trusting too much to others' Care 
is the Ruin of many; for, as the Almanack says. In the Affairs 
of this World, Men are saved, not by Faith, but by the Want of it; 
but a Man's own Care is profitable ; for, saith Poor Dick, Learning 
is to the Studious, and Riches to the Careful, as well as Power to 
the Bold, and Heaven to the Virtuous, And farther, // you woidd 
have afaitliful Servant, and one that you like, serve yourself. And 
again, he adviseth to Circumspection and Care, even in the smallest 
Matters, because sometimes A Little Neglect may breed great 
Mischief; adding, for want of a Nail the Shoe was lost; for want 
of a Shoe the Horse was lost; and for want of a Horse the Rider 
was lost, beiitg overtaken and slain by the Enemy; all for want of 
Care about a Horse-shoe Nail. 

IRONICAL ADVICE TO GREAT BRITAIN 

[From "Rules by which a Great Empire may be reduced to a small one." 
Published in the Gentleman's Magazine, London, 1773] 

An ancient Sage boasted, that, the' he could not fiddle, he knew 
how to make a great city of a little one. The science that I, a 
modern simpleton, am about to communicate, is the very reverse. 

I address myself to all ministers who have the management 
of extensive dominions, which from their very greatness are be- 
come troublesome to govern, because the multiplicity of their 
affairs leaves no time for fiddling. 

I. In the first place, gentlemen, you are to consider, that a 
great empire, like a great cake, is most easily diminished at the 
edges. Turn your attention, therefore, first to your remotest 
provinces; that, as you get rid of them, the next may follow in 
order. 

II. That the possibility of this separation may always exist, 
take special care the provinces are never incorporated with the 
mother country; that they do not enjoy thefsame common rights, 
the same privileges in commerce; and that they are governed by 
severer laws, all of your enacting, without allowing them any share 



320 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

in the choice of the legislators. By carefully making and pre- 
serving such distinctions, you will (to keep to my simile of the 
cake) act like a wise ginger-bread-baker, who, to facilitate a divi- 
sion, cuts his dough half through in those places where, when 
baked, he would have it broken to pieces. 

III. Those remote provinces have perhaps been acquired, 
purchased, or conquered, at the sole expence of the settlers, or 
their ancestors, without the aid of the mother country. If this 
should happen to increase her strength, by their growing numbers, 
ready to join in her wars ; her commerce, by their growing demand 
for her manufactures ; or her naval power, by greater employment 
for her ships and seamen, they may probably suppose some merit 
in this, and that it entitles them to some favour; you are therefore 
to forget it all, or resent it, as if they had done you injury. If they 
happen to be zealous whigs, friends of liberty, nurtured in revolu- 
tion principles, remember all that to their prejudice, and resolve 
to punish it; for such principles, after a revolution is thoroughly 
estabhshed, are of no more use; they are even odious and abomi- 
nable. 

IV. However peaceably your colonies have submitted to your 
government, shewn their affection to your interests, and patiently 
borne their grievances; you are to suppose them always inclined 
to revolt, and treat them accordingly. Quarter troops among them, 
who by their insolence may provoke the rising of mobs, and by 
their bullets and bayonets suppress them. By this means, like 
the husband who uses his wife ill /row suspicion, you may in time 
convert your suspicions into realities. 

V. Remote provinces must have Governors and Judges, to rep- 
resent the Royal Person, and execute everywhere the delegated 
parts of his office and authority. You ministers know, that much 
of the strength of government depends on the opinion of the people ; 
and much of that opinion on the choice of rulers placed immediately 
over them. If you send them wise and good men for governors, 
who study the interest of the colonists, and advance their prosperity, 
they will think their King wise and good, and that he wishes the 
welfare of his subjecfe. If you send them learned and upright 
men for Judges, they will think him a lover of justice. This may 
attach your provinces more to his government. You are therefore 



BENJAMIN FRANKLIN 32 1 

to be careful whom you recommend for those offices. If you can 
find prodigals, who have ruined their fortunes, broken gamesters 
or stockjobbers, these may do well as governors; for they will 
probably be rapacious, and provoke the people by their extortions. 
Wrangling proctors and pettifogging lawyers, too, are not amiss; 
for they will be forever disputing and quarrelling with their little 
parliaments. If withal they should be ignorant, wrongheaded, 
and insolent, so much the better. Attornies' clerks and Newgate 
soUcitors will do for Chief Justices, especially if they hold their 
places during your pleasure; and all will contribute to impress 
those ideas of your government, that are proper for a people you 
would wish to renounce it. 

VI. To confirm these impressions, and strike them deeper, 
whenever the injured come to the capital with complaints of mal- 
administration, oppression, or injustice, punish such suitors with 
long delay, enormous expence, and a final judgment in favour of 
the oppressor. This will have an admirable effect every way. 
The trouble of future complaints will be prevented, and Governors 
and Judges will be encouraged to farther acts of oppression and 
injustice; and thence the people may become more disaffected, 
and at length desperate. 

VII. When such Governors have cramm^ed their coffers, and 
made themselves so odious to the people that they can no longer 
remain among them, with safety to their persons, recall and reward 
them with pensions. You may make them baronets too, if that 
respectable order should not think fit to resent it. All will con- 
tribute to encourage new governors in the same practice, and make 
the supreme government detestable. 

VIII. If, when you are engaged in war, your colonies should 
vie in liberal aids of men and money against the common enemy, 
upon your simple requisition, and give far beyond their abilities, 
reflect that a penny taken from them by your power is more 
honourable to you, than a pound presented by their benevolence; 
despise therefore their voluntary grants, and resolve to harass them 
with novel taxes. They will probably complain to your parlia- 
ments, that they are taxed by a body in which they have no rep- 
resentative, and that this is contrary to common right. They 
will petition for redress. Let the Parliaments flout their claims. 



322 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

reject their petitions, refuse even to suffer the reading of them, 
and treat the petitioners with the utmost contempt. Nothing 
can have a better effect in producing the ahenation proposed; 
for though many can forgive injuries, none ever forgave contempt. 

EARLY TRAINING 

[From the "Autobiography"] 

My elder brothers were all put apprentices to different trades. 
I was put to the grammar-school at eight years of age, my father 
intending to devote me, as the tithe of his sons, to the service of 
the Church. My early readiness in learning to read (which must 
have been very early, as I do not remember when I could not read), 
and the opinion of all his friends that I should certainly make a 
good scholar, encouraged him in this purpose of his. My uncle 
Benjamin, too, approved of it, and proposed to give me all his 
short-hand volumes of sermons, I suppose as a stock to set up 
with, if I would learn his character. I continued, however, at 
the grammar-school not quite one year, though in that time I had 
risen gradually from the middle of the class of that year to be the 
head of it, and farther was removed into the next class above it, 
in order to go with that into the third at the end of the year. But 
my father, in the mean time, from a view of the expense of a college 
education, which having so large a family he could not well afford, 
and the mean living many so educated were afterwards able to 
obtain — reasons that he gave to his friends in my hearing — 
altered his first intention, took me from the grammar-school, and 
sent me to a school for writing and arithmetic, kept by a then 
famous man, Mr. George Brownell, very successful in his pro- 
fession generally, and that by mild, encouraging methods. Under 
him I acquired fair writing pretty soon, but I failed in the arith- 
metic, and made no progress in it. At ten years old I was taken 
home to assist my father in his business, which was that of a tallow- 
chandler and sope-boiler; a business he was not bred to, but had 
assumed on his arrival in New England, and on finding his dying 
trade would not maintain his family, being in little request. Ac- 
cordingly, I was employed in cutting wick for the candles, filling 
the dipping mold and the molds for cast candles, attending the 
shop, going of errands, etc. 



BENJAMIN FRANKLIN 323 

I disliked the trade, and had a strong inclination for the sea, 
but my father declared against it ; however, living near the water, 
I was much in and about it, learnt early to swim well, and to 
manage boats ; and when in a boat or canoe with other boys, I was 
commonly allowed to govern, especially in any case of difficulty; 
and upon other occasions I was generally a leader among the boys, 
and sometimes led them into scrapes, of which I will mention one 
instance, as it shows an early projecting public spirit, tho' not then 
justly conducted. 

There was a salt-marsh that bounded part of the mill-pond, on 
the edge of which, at high water, we used to stand to fish for 
minnows. By much trampling, we had made it a mere quagmire. 
Aly proposal was to build a wharff there fit for us to stand upon, 
and I showed my comrades a large heap of stones, which were 
intended for a new house near the marsh, and which would very 
well suit our purpose. Accordingly, in the evening, when the 
workmen were gone, I assembled a number of my playfellows, 
and working with them diligently, like so many emmets, sometimes 
two or three to a stone, we brought them all away and built our 
little wbarff. The next morning the workmen were surprised at 
missing the stones, which were found in our wharff. Inquiry 
was made after the removers ; we were discovered and complained 
of; several of us were corrected by our fathers; and, though I 
pleaded the usefulness of the work, mine convinced me that nothing 
was useful which was not honest. 

SCHEMES FOR SELF-IMPROVEMENT 

[From the "Autobiography"] 

About this time I met with an odd volume of the Spectator. 
It was the third. I had never before seen any of them. I bought 
it, read it over and over, and was much delighted v^dth it. I 
thought the writing excellent, and wished, if possible, to imitate 
it. With this view I took some of the papers, and making short 
hints of the sentiment in each sentence, laid them by a few days, 
and then, without looking at the book, try'd to compleat the papers 
again, by expressing each hinted sentiment at length, and as fully 
as it had been expressed before, in any suitable words that should 



324 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

come to hand. Then I compared my Spectator with the original, 
discovered some of my faults, and corrected them. But I found 
I wanted a stock of words, or a readiness in recollecting and using 
them, which I thought I should have acquired before that time 
if I had gone on making verses ; since the continual occasion for 
words of the same import, but of different length, to suit the 
measure, or of different sound for fhe rhyme, would have laid 
me under a constant necessity of searching for variety, and also 
have tended to fix that variety in my mind, and make me master 
of it. Therefore I took some of the tales and turned them into 
verse; and, after a time, when I had pretty well forgotten the 
prose, turned them back again. I also sometimes jumbled my 
collections of hints into confusion, and after some weeks endeavored 
to reduce them into the best order, before I began to form the full 
sentences and compleat the paper. This was to teach me method 
in the arrangement of thoughts. By comparing my work after- 
wards with the original, I discovered many faults and amended 
them ; but I sometimes had the pleasure of fancying that, in certain 
particulars of small import, I had been lucky enough to improve 
the method or the language, and this encouraged me to think I 
might possibly in time come to be a tolerable English writer, of 
which I was extreamly ambitious. My time for these exercises 
and for reading was at night, after work, or before it began in 
the morning, or on Sundays, when I contrived to be in the printing- 
house alone, evading as much as I could the common attendance 
on public worship which my father used to exact of me when I was 
under his care, and which indeed I still thought a duty, though 
I could not, as it seemed to me, afford time to practise it. 

When about 16 years of age I happened to meet with a book, 
written bv one Tryon, recommending a vegetable diet. I deter- 
mined to go into it. My brother, being yet unmarried, did not 
keep house, but boarded himself and his apprentices in another 
family. My refusing to eat flesh occasioned an inconveniency, 
and I was frequently chid for my singularity. I made myself 
acquainted with Tryon's manner of preparing some of his dishes, 
such as boiling potatoes or rice, making hasty pudding, and a few 
others, and then proposed to my brother that if he would give me, 
weekly, half the money he paid for my board, I would board my- 



BENJAMIN FRANKLIN 325 

self. He instantly agreed to it and I presently found that I could 
save half what he paid me. This was an additional fund for buy- 
ing books. But I had another advantage in it. My brother 
and the rest going from the printing-house to their meals, I re- 
mained there alone, and, dispatching presently my light repast, 
which often was no more than a bisket or a shce of bread, a hand- 
ful of raisins or a tart from the pastry-cook's, and a glass of water, 
had the rest of the time till their return for study, in which I made 
the greater progress, from that greater clearness of head and 
quicker apprehension which usually attend temperance in eating 
and drinking. 

And now it was that, being on some occasion made ash am 'd 
of my ignorance in figures, which I had twice failed in learning 
when at school, I took Cocker's book of Arithmetick, and went 
through the whole by myself with great ease. I also read Seller's 
and Shermy's books of Navigation, and became acquainted with 
the little geometry they contain ; but never proceeded far in that 
science. And I read about this time Locke on Human Under- 
standing, and the Art of Thinking, by Messrs. du Port Royal. 

While I was intent on improving my language, I met with an 
English grammar (I think it was Greenwood's), at the end of 
which there were two little sketches of the arts of rhetoric and 
logic, the latter finishing with a specimen of a dispute in the 
Socratic method; and soon after I procur'd Xenophon's Memo- 
rable Things of Socrates, wherein there are many instances of the 
same method. I was charm'd with it, adopted it, dropt my 
abrupt contradiction and positive argumentation, and put on the 
humble inquirer and doubter. And being then, from reading 
Shaftesbury and CoUins, become a real doubter in many points 
of our religious doctrine, I found this method safest for myself 
and very embarrassing to those against whom I used it; there- 
fore I took a delight in it, practis'd it continually, and grew very 
artful and expert in drawing people, even of superior knowledge, 
into concessions, the consequences of which they did not foresee, 
entangling them in difficulties out of which tliey could not extricate 
themselves, and so obtaining victories that neither myself nor my 
cause always deserved. I continu'd this method some few years, 
but gradually left it, retaining only the habit of expressing myself 



326 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

in terms of modest diffidence; never using, when I advanced 
anything that may possibly be disputed, the words certainly, un- 
doubtedly, or any others that give the air of positiveness to an 
opinion; but rather say, I conceive or apprehend a thing to be 
so and so ; it appears to me, or / shoidd think it so or so, for such 
and such reasons; or / imagine it to he so; or it is so, if I am not 
mistaken. This habit, I believe, has been of great advantage to 
me when I have had occasion to inculcate my opinions, and 
persuade men into measures that I have been from time to time 
engag'd in promoting; and, as the chief ends of conversation are 
to inform or to be informed, to please or to persuade, I wish well- 
meaning, sensible men would not lessen their power of doing 
good by a positive, assuming manner, that seldom fails to disgust, 
tends to create opposition, and to defeat everyone of those pur- 
poses for which speech was given to us, to wit, giving or receiving 
information or pleasure. For, if you would inform, a positive 
and dogmatical manner in advancing your sentiments may pro- 
voke contradiction and prevent a candid attention. If you wish 
information and improvement from the knowledge of others, 
and yet at the same time express yourself as firmly fix'd in your 
present opinions, modest, sensible men, who do not love disputa- 
tion, will probably leave you undisturbed in the possession of 
your error. And by such a manner, you can seldom hope to re- 
commend yourself in pleasing your hearers, or to persuade those 
whose concurrence you desire. Pope says, judiciously: 

"Men should be taught as if you taught them not, 
And things unknown propos'd as things forgot ;" 

farther recommending to us 

" To speak, tho' sure, with seeming diffidence." 

And he might have coupled with this line that which he has 
coupled with another, I think, less properly, 

" For want of modesty is want of sense." 

If you ask, Why less properly? I must repeat the lines, 

" Immodest words admit of no defense. 
For want of modesty is want of sense." 



BENJAMIN FRANKLIN 



327 



Now, is not want of sense (where a man is so unfortunate as to 
want it) some apology for his want of modesty ? and would not the 
lines stand more justly thus? 

" Immodest words admit hut this defense, 
That want of modesty is want of sense." 

This, however, I should submit to better judgments. 



FRANKLIN'S ENTRANCE INTO PHILADELPHIA 

[From the "Autobiography"] 

I have been the more particular in this description of my 
journey, and shall be so of my first entry into that city, that you 
may in your mind compare such unlikely beginnings with the 
figure I have since made there. I was in my working dress, my 
best clothes being to come round by sea. I was dirty from my 
journey; my pockets were stuff 'd out with shirts and stockings, 
and I knew no soul nor where to look for lodging. I was fatigued 
with travelling, rowing, and want of rest, I was very hungry; 
and my whole stock of cash consisted of a Dutch dollar, and about 
a shilling in copper. The latter I gave the people of the boat for 
my passage, who at first refus'd it, on account of my rowing; 
but I insisted on their taking it. A man being sometimes more 
generous when he has but a little money than when he has plenty, 
perhaps thro' fear of being thought to have but little. 

Then I walked up the street, gazing about till near the market- 
house I met a boy with bread. I had made many a meal on bread, 
and inquiring where he got it, I went immediately to the baker's 
he directed me to, in Second-street, and ask'd for bisket, intend- 
ing such as we had in Boston; but they, it seems, were not made 
in Philadelphia. Then I asked for a three-penny loaf, and was 
told they had none such. So not considering or kno\ving the 
difference of money, and the greater cheapness nor the names of 
his bread, I bad him give me three-penny worth of any sort. He 
gave me, accordingly, three great puffy rolls. I was surpriz'd 
at the quantity, but took it, and having no room in my pockets, 
walk'd off with a roll under each arm, and eating the other. Thus 
I went up Market-street as far as Fourth-street, passing by the 



328 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

door of Mr. Read, my future wife's father; when she, standing 
at the door, saw me, and thought I made, as I certainly did, a 
most awkward, ridiculous appearance. Then I turned and went 
down Chestnut-street and part of Walnut-street, eating my roll 
all the way, and coming round, found myself again at Market- 
street wharf, near the boat I came in, to which I went for a draught 
of the river water ; and being filled with one of my rolls, gave the 
other two to a woman and her child that came down the river in 
the boat with us, and were waiting to go farther. 

Thus refreshed, I walked again up the street, which by this 
time had many clean-dressed people in it, who were all walking 
the same way. I joined them, and thereby was led into the great 
meeting-house of the Quakers near the market. I sat down 
among them, and after looking round awhile and hearing nothing 
said, being very drowsy thro' labour and want of rest the preceding 
night, I fell fast asleep, and continu'd so till the meeting broke up, 
when one was kind enough to rouse me. This was, therefore, the 
first house I was in, or slept in, in Philadelphia. 

Walking down again toward the river, and looking in the faces 
of people, I met a young Quaker man, whose countenance I lik'd, 
and, accosting him, requested he would tell me where a stranger 
could get lodging. We were then near the sign of the Three 
Mariners. "Here, "says he, "is one place that entertains strangers, 
but it is not a reputable house; if thee wilt walk with me, I'll 
show thee a better." He brought me to the Crooked Billet in 
Water-street. Here I got a dinner; and while I was eating it, 
several sly questions were asked me, as it seemed to be suspected 
from my youth and appearance that I might be some runaway. 

After dinner, my sleepiness return'd, and being shown to a bed, 
I lay down without undressing, and slept till six in the evening, 
was call'd to supper, went to bed again very early, and slept 
soundly till next morning. Then I made myself as tidy as I could, 
and went to Andrew Bradford the printer's. I found in the shop 
the old man his father, whom I had seen at New York, and who, 
travelling on horseback, had got to Philadelphia before me. He 
introduc'd me to his son, who receiv'd me civilly, gave me a break- 
fast, but told me he did not at present want a hand, being lately 
suppli'd with one; but there was another printer in town, lately 



BENJAMIN FRANKLIN 



329 



set up, one Keimer, who, perhaps, might employ me; if not, I 
should be welcome to lodge at his house, and he would give me 
a little work to do now and then till fuller business should offer. 

The old gentleman said he would go with me to the new printer ; 
and when we found him, "Neighbor," says Bradford, "I have 
brought to see you a young man of your business; perhaps you 
may want such a one." He ask'd me a few questions, put a com- 
posing stick in my hand to see how I work'd, and then said he 
would employ me soon, though he had just then nothing for me 
to do ; and taking old Bradford, whom he had never seen before, 
to be one of the town's people that had a good will for him, enter'd 
into a conversation on his present undertaking and prospects; 
while Bradford, not discovering that he was the other printer's 
father, on Keimer's saying he expected soon to get the greatest 
part of the business into his own hands, drew him on by artful 
questions, and starting little doubts, to explain all his views, what 
interest he reli'd on, and in what manner he intended to proceed. 
I, who stood by and heard all, saw immediately that one of them 
was a crafty old sophister, and the other a mere novice. Bradford 
left me with Keimer, who was greatly surpris'd when I told him 
who the old man was. 

Keimer's printing-house, I found, consisted of an old shatter'd 
press, and one small, worn-out font of English, which he was then 
using himself, composing an Elegy on Aquila Rose, before men- 
tioned, an ingenious young man, of excellent character, much 
respected in the town, clerk of the Assembly, and a pretty poet. 
Keimer made verses too, but very indifferently. He could not 
be said to write them, for his manner was to compose them in 
the types directly out of his head. So there being no copy, but 
one pair of cases, and the Elegy likely to require all the letter, 
no one could help him. I endeavour'd to put his press (which 
he had not yet us'd, and of which he understood nothing) into 
order fit to be work'd with ; and promising to come and print off 
his Elegy as soon as he should have got it ready, I return'd to 
Bradford's, who gave me a little job to do for the present, and 
there I lodged and dieted. A few days after, Keimer sent for 
me to print off the Elegy. And now he had got another pair of 
cases, and a pamphlet to reprint, on which he set me to work. 



330 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

These two printers I found poorly qualified for their business. 
Bradford had not been bred to it, and was very illiterate; and 
Keimer, tho' something of a scholar, was a mere compositor know- 
ing nothing of presswork. He had been one of the French 
prophets, and could act their enthusiastic agitations. At this 
time he did not profess any particular religion, but something of 
all on occasion; was very ignorant of the world, and had, as I 
afterward found, a good deal of the knave in his composition. 
He did not like my lodging at Bradford's while I work'd with him. 
He had a house, indeed, but without furniture, so he could not 
lodge me; but he got me a lodging at Mr. Read's before men- 
tioned, who was the owner of his house ; and my chest and clothes 
being come by this time, I made rather a more respectable appear- 
ance in the eyes of Miss Read than I had done when she first 
happen'd to see me eating my roll in the street. 

PLANS FOR STREET IMPROVEMENTS 

[From the " Autobiography "] 

Our city, tho' laid out with a beautiful regularity, the streets 
large, strait, and crossing each other at right angles, had the dis- 
grace of suffering those streets to remain long unpav'd, and in wet 
weather the wheels of heavy carriages plough 'd them into a quag- 
mire, so that it was difficult to cross them; and in dry weather 
the dust was offensive. I had liv'd near what was call'd the Jersey 
Market, and saw with pain the inhabitants wading in mud while 
purchasing their provisions. A strip of ground down the middle 
of that market was at length pav'd with brick, so that, being once 
in the market, they had firm footing, but were often over shoes in 
dirt to get there. By talking and writing on the subject, I was at 
length instrumental in getting the street pav'd with stone between 
the market and the brick'd foot-pavement, that was on each side 
next the houses. This, for some time, gave an easy access to the 
market dry-shod; but the rest of the street not being pav'd, 
whenever a carriage came out of the mud upon this pavement, 
it shook off and left its dirt upon it, and it was soon cover'd with 
mire, which was not remov'd, the city as yet having no scavengers. 

After some inquiry, I found a poor, industrious man, who Vv^as 



BENJAMIN FRANKLIN 33 1 

willing to undertake keeping the pavement clean, by sweeping it 
twice a week, carrying off the dirt from before all the neighbours' 
doors, for the sum of sixpence per month, to be paid by each house. 
I then wrote and printed a paper setting forth the advantages 
to the neighbourhood that might be obtain'd by this small expense; 
the greater ease in keeping our houses clean, so much dirt not being 
brought in by people's feet ; the benefit to the shops by more custom, 
etc., etc., as buyers could more easily get at them; and by not 
having, in windy weather, the dust blown in upon their goods, 
etc., etc. I sent one of these papers to each house, and in a day 
or two went round to see who would subscribe an agreement to 
pay these sixpences; it was unanimously sign'd, and for a time 
well executed. All the inhabitants of the city were delighted with 
the cleanliness of the pavement that surrounded the market, it 
being a convenience to all, and this rais'd a general desire to have 
all the streets paved, and made the people more willing to submit 
to a tax for that purpose. 

After some time I drew a bill for paving the city, and brought 
it into the Assembly. It was just before I went to England, in 
1757, and did not pass till I was gone, and then with an alteration 
in the mode of assessment, which I thought not for the better, 
but with an additional provision for lighting as well as paving 
the streets, which was a great improvement. It was by a private 
person, the late Mr. John Clifton, his giving a sample of the utility 
of lamps, by placing one at his door, that the people were first 
impress'd with the idea of enlighting all the city. The honour 
of this public benefit has also been ascrib'd to me, but it belongs 
truly to that gentleman. I did but follow his example, and have 
only some merit to claim respecting the form of our lamps, as 
differing from the globe lamps we were at first suppli'd with from 
London. Those we found inconvenient in these respects: they 
admitted no air below; the smoke, therefore, did not readily go 
out above, but circulated in the globe, lodg'd on its inside, and soon 
obstructed the light they were intended to afford ; giving, besides, 
the daily trouble of wiping them clean; and an accidental stroke 
on one of them would demolish it and render it totally useless. 
I therefore suggested the composing them of four flat panes, with 
a long funnel above to draw up the smoke, and crevices admitting 



332 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

air below, to facilitate the ascent of the smoke; by this means 
they were kept clean, and did not grow dark in a few hours, as the 
London lamps do, but continu'd bright till morning, and an ac- 
cidental stroke would generally break but a single pane, easily 
repair'd. 

I have sometimes wonder'd that the Londoners did not, from 
the effect holes in the bottom of the globe lamps us'd at Vauxhall 
have in keeping them clean, learn to have such holes in their 
street lamps. But, these holes being made for another purpose, 
viz., to communicate flame more suddenly to the wick by a little 
flax hanging down thro' them, the other use, of letting in air, 
seems not to have been thought of; and therefore, after the lamps 
have been lit a few hours, the streets of London are very poorly 
illuminated. 

THE WHISTLE 

[To Madame Brillion] 

Passy, November lo, 1779. 

I received my dear friend's two letters, one for Wednesday 
and one for Saturday. This is again Wednesday. I do not de- 
serve one for to-day, because I have not answered the former. But, 
indolent as I am, and averse to writing, the fear of having no more 
of your pleasing epistles, if I do not contribute to the correspond- 
ence, obliges me to take up my pen; and as Mr. B. has kindly 
sent me word, that he sets out to-morrow to see you, instead of 
spending this Wednesday evening as I have done its namesakes, 
in your dehghtful company, I sit down to spend it in thinking of 
you, in writing to you, and in reading over and over again your 
letters. 

I am charmed with your description of Paradise, and with your 
plan of living there; and I approve much of your conclusion, that, 
in the mean time, we should draw all the good we can from this 
world. In my opinion, we might all draw more good from it 
than we do, and suffer less evil, if we would take care not to give 
too much for whistles. For to me it seems, that most of the un- 
happy people we meet with, are become so by neglect of that 
caution. 



BENJAMIN FRANKLIN ^333 

You ask what I mean? You love stories, and will excuse my 
telling one of myself. 

When I was a child of seven years old, my friends, on a holiday, 
filled my pocket with coppers. I went directly to a shop where 
they sold toys for children; and, being charmed with the sound of 
a whistle, that I met by the way in the hands of another boy, I 
voluntarily offered and gave all my money for one. I then came 
home, and went whisthng all over the house, much pleased vdth 
my whistle, but disturbing all the family. My brothers, and 
sisters, and cousins, understanding the bargain I had made, told 
me I had given four times as much for it as it was worth ; put me 
in mind what good things I might have bought with the rest of 
the money ; and laughed at me so much for my folly, that I cried 
with vexation; and the reflection gave me more chagrin than the 
whistle gave me pleasure. 

This however was afterwards of use to me, the impression con- 
tinuing on my mind; so that often, when I was tempted to buy 
some unnecessary thing, I said to myself, DonH give too much 
for the whistle; and I saved my money. 

As I grew up, came into the world, and observed the actions of 
men, I thought I met with many, very many, who gave too much 
for the whistle. 

When I saw one too ambitious of court favour, sacrificing his 
time in attendance on levees, his repose, his liberty, his virtue, 
and perhaps his friends, to attain it, I have said to myself. This 
man gives too much for his whistle. 

When I saw another fond of popularity, constantly employing 
himself in political bustles, neglecting his own affairs, and ruining 
them by that neglect. He pays, indeed, said I, too much for his 
whistle. 

If I knew a miser, who gave up every kind of comfortable living, 
all the pleasure of doing good to others, all the esteem of his fellow- 
citizens, and the joys of benevolent friendship, for the sake of 
accumulating wealth, Poor man, said I, you pay too much for your 
whistle. 

When I met with a man of pleasure, sacrificing every laudable 
improvement of the mind, or of his fortune, to mere corporeal 
sensations, and ruining his health in their pursuit. Mistaken man, 



334<» EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

said I, you are providing pain for yourself, instead of pleasure; 
you give too much for your whistle. 

If I see one fond of appearance, or fine clothes, fine houses, 
fine furniture, fine equipages, all above his fortune, for which he 
contracts debts, and ends his career in a prison, Alas 1 say I, he 
has paid dear, very dear, for his whistle. 

When I see a beautiful, sweet-tempered girl married to an ill- 
natured brute of a husband, what a pity, say I, that she should pay 
so much for a whistle ! 

In short, I conceive that great part of the miseries of mankind 
are brought upon them by the false estimates they have made of 
the value of things, and by their giving too much for their whistles. 

Yet I ought to have charity for these unhappy people, when I 
consider that, with all this wisdom of which I am boasting, there 
are certain things in the world so tempting, for example, the apples 
of King John, which happily are not to be bought; for if they were 
put to sale by auction, I might very easily be led to ruin myself 
in the purchase, and find that I had once more given too much for 
the whistle. 

Adieu, my dear friend, and believe me ever yours very sincerely 
and with unalterable affection, 

B. Franklin. 



PATRICK HENRY 

[Patrick Henry was one of the most famous of Revolutionary orators, 
though his reputation to-day rests mostly on tradition, and on confessedly 
inaccurate reports of a few of his speeches. He was born in Virginia in 
1736, and after completing Ins education, engaged unsuccessfully in busi- 
ness. In 1760 he took up the practice of law, and soon established his repu- 
tation as an orator. In 1765 he became a member of the House of B urgesses. 
Here, according to the well-known anecdote, the awkward and unknown 
country member introduced outspoken resolutions denouncing the Stamp 
Act, and stampeded the house in their favor by his speech containing the 
famous climax: "Caesar had his Brutus; Charles the First had his Crom- 
well; and George the Third — may profit by their example." From this 
time he was active in the public affairs of the colony and the country. He 
held many official positions, among them member of the continental congress 
and governor of Virginia; and he declined appointments as secretary of 
state, chief justice of the United States, and minister to France, which were 
offered him after the organization of the national government. 

Few of Henry's orations have been preserved in authentic form. The 
traditional version of his most famous speech, delivered in the Virginia con- 
vention of 1775, is given partly transposed into the third person, in Wirt's 
"Life of Patrick Henry." His speeches in the convention of 1788, where 
he objected to the proposed national constitution as tending to a strongly 
centralized government, were printed by a shorthand reporter who admitted 
that his version was verbally inaccurate. Unsatisfactory as these literary 
remains are, they are sufficient to show the style of the speaker, and they and 
the tracjitions that accompanied them had a great influence on later American 
oratory. 

The first selection is based on the report of the 1775 speech in Wirt's 
"Life of Patrick Henry." The selections from the speech before the con- 
vention of 1788 are from the shorthand report already referred to, as given 
in the "Life, Correspondence and Speeches of Patrick Henry," by William 
Wirt Henry.] 

LIBERTY OR DEATH 

[As reported in Wirt's "Life of Patrick Henry" '] 

Mr. President, it is natural to man to indulge in the illusions of 
hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth — and 

[' As cited by Wirt, part of this speech is paraphrased with change of person 
and number. It is here transposed into the obvious form of direct discourse.] 

335 



336 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

listen to the song of that siren, till she transforms us into beasts. 
Is this the part of wise men, engaged in a great and arduous struggle 
for liberty? Are we disposed to be of the number of those, who 
having eyes, see not, and having ears, hear not, the things which 
so nearly concern their temporal salvation? For my part, what- 
ever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am wiUing to know the 
whole truth ; to know the worst, and to provide for it. 

I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided, and that is 
the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future 
but by the past. And judging by the past, I wish to know what 
there has been in the conduct of the British ministry for the last 
ten years, to justify those hopes with which gentlemen have been 
pleased to solace themselves and the house? Is it that insidious 
smile with which our petition has been lately received? Trust it 
not, sir; it will prove a snare to your feet. Suffer not yourselves 
to be betrayed vnth a kiss. Ask yourselves how this gracious 
reception of our petition comports with those warlike preparations 
which cover our waters and darken our land. Are fleets and armies 
necessary to a work of love and reconciliation? Have we shown 
ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled, that force must be called 
in to win back our love ? Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. These 
are the implements of war and subjugation — the last argu- 
ments to which kings resort. I ask gentlemen, sir, what means 
this martial array, if its purpose be not to force us to submission ? 
Can gentlemen assign any other possible motive for it? Has 
Great Britain any enemy in this quarter of the world, to call for all 
this accumulation of navies and armies? No, sir, she hd^ none. 
They are meant for us : they can be meant for no other. They are 
sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains which the British 
ministry have been so long forging. And what have we to oppose 
to them? Shall we try argument? Sir, we have been trying that 
for the last ten years. Have we any thing new to offer upon the 
subject. Nothing. We have held the subject up in every light 
of which it is capable ; but it has been all in vain. Shall we resort 
to entreaty and humble supplication? What terms shall we find, 
which have not been already exhausted? Let us not, I beseech 
you, sir, deceive ourselves longer. Sir, we have done every thing 
that could be done, to avert the storm which is now coming on, 



PATRICK HENRY 



337 



We have petitioned — we have remonstrated — we have sup- 
plicated — we have prostrated ourselves before the throne, and 
have implored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of the 
ministry and Parhament. Our petitions have been shghted; our 
remonstrances have produced additional violence and insult ; our 
supplications have been disregarded ; and we have been spurned 
with contempt, from the foot of the throne. In vain, after these 
things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and reconciliation. 
There is no longer any room for hope. If we wish to be free — if 
we mean to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges for 
which we have been so long contending — if we mean not basely 
to abandon the noble struggle in which we have been so long 
engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon, 
until the glorious object of our contest shall be obtained — we must 
fight ! — I repeat it, sir, we must fight ! An appeal to arms and 
to the God of Hosts, is all that is left us ! 

They tell us, sir, that we are weak — unable to cope with so 
formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will 
it be the next week or the next year? Will it be when we are 
totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in 
every house? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and in- 
action? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance by 
lying supinely on our backs, and hugging the delusive phantom 
of hope, until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot? 
Sir, we are not weak, if we make a proper use of those means which 
the God of nature hath placed in our power. Three millions of 
people armed in the holy cause of liberty, and in such a country as 
that which we possess, are invincible by any force which our enemy 
can send against us. Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles 
alone. There is a just God who presides over the destinies of 
nations, and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. 
The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone ; it is to the vigilant, the 
active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were 
base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. 
There is no retreat but in submission and slavery ! Our chains 
are forged. Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston ! 
The war is inevitable — and let it come ! ! I repeat it, sir, let it 
come ! ! ! 



338 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

It is vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, 
peace, peace — but there is no peace. The war is actually begun ! 
The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears 
the clash of resounding arms ! Our brethren are already in the 
field ! Why stand we here idle ? What is it that gentlemen wish ? 
What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to 
be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it. 
Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but 
as for me, give me liberty, or give me death ! 



AGAINST A CONSOLIDATED GOVERNMENT 

[From the shorthand report of the Virginia Convention of 1788] 

The honorable gentleman's observations respecting the people's 
right of being the agents in the formation of this government, are 
not accurate in my humble conception. The distinction between a 
national government and a confederacy is not sufficiently discerned. 
Had the delegates who were sent to Philadelphia a power to propose 
a consolidated government instead of a confederacy? Were they 
not deputed by states, and not by the people? The assent of the 
people in their collective capacity is not necessary to the forma- 
tion of a federal government. The people have no right to enter 
into leagues, alliances, or confederations : they are not the proper 
agents for this purpose : states and sovereign powers are the only 
proper agents for this kind of government : show me an instance 
where the people have exercised this business: has it not always 
gone through the legislatures? I refer you to the treaties with 
France, Holland, and other nations : how were they made ? Were 
they not made by the states? Are the people therefore in their 
aggregate capacity, the proper persons to form a confederacy? 
This, therefore, ought to depend on the consent of the legislatures; 
the people having never sent delegates to make any proposition 
of changing the government. Yet I must say, at the same time, 
that it was made on grounds the most pure, and perhaps I might 
have been brought to consent to it so far as to the change of govern- 
ment; but there is one thing in it which I never would acquiesce 



i 



PATRICK HENRY 



339 



in. I mean the changing it into a consolidated government; 
which is so abhorrent to my mind. 

The honorable gentleman then went on to the figure we make 
with foreign nations; the contemptible one we make in France 
and Holland; which, according to the substance of my notes, he 
attributes to the present feeble government. An opinion has gone 
forth, we find, that we are a contemptible people : the tim.e has 
been when we were thought otherwise. Under this same despised 
government, we commanded the respect of all Europe : wherefore 
are we now reckoned otherwise ? The American spirit has fled 
from hence: it has gone to regions, where it has never been ex- 
pected : it has gone to the people of France in search of a splendid 
government — a strong energetic government. Shall we imitate 
the example of those nations who have gone from a simple to a 
splendid government? Are those nations more worthy of our 
imitation ? What can make an adequate satisfaction to them for 
the loss they have suffered in attaining such a government — for 
the loss of their liberty? If we admit this consolidated govern- 
ment, it will be because we like a great splendid one. Some way 
or other we must be a great and mighty empire; we must have 
an army, and a navy, and a number of things. When the American 
spirit was in its youth, the language of America was different: 
liberty, sir, was then the primary object. We are descended from 
a people whose government was founded on liberty : our glorious 
forefathers of Great Britain, made liberty the foundation of every 
thing. That country is become a great, mighty and splendid 
nation; not because their government is strong and energetic; 
but, sir, because liberty is its direct end and foundation. We drew 
the spirit of liberty from our British ancestors: by that spirit we 
have triumphed over every difficulty. But now, sir, the American 
spirit, assisted by the ropes and chains of consolidation, is about 
to ♦convert this country into a powerful and mighty empire; if 
you make the citizens of this country agree to become the subjects 
of one great consolidated empire of America, your government 
will not have sufficient energy to keep them together: such a 
government is incompatible with the genius of republicanism. 
There will be no checks, no real balances, in this government. 
What can avail your specious, imaginary balances, your rope- 



340 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

dancing, chain-rattling, ridiculous ideal checks and contrivances? 
But, sir, we are not feared by foreigners; we do not make nations 
tremble. Would this constitute happiness, or secure liberty? 
I trust, sir, our political hemisphere will ever direct their operations 
to the security of those objects. 

Consider our situation, sir: go to the poor man, ask him what 
he does ; he will inform you that he enjoys the fruits of his labor, 
under his own fig-tree, with his wife and children around him, in 
peace and security. Go to every other member of the society, you 
will find the same tranquil ease and content; you will find no 
alarms or disturbances ! Why then tell us of dangers to terrify 
us into an adoption of this new form of government? And yet 
who knows the dangers that this new system may produce? 
They are out of the sight of the common people ; they cannot fore- 
see latent consequences. I dread the operation of it on the mid- 
dling and lower classes of people : it is for them I fear the adoption 
of this system. I fear I tire the patience of the committee, but I 
beg to be indulged with a few more observations. When I thus 
profess myself an advocate for the liberty of the people, I shall 
be told, I am a designing man, that I am to be a great man, that I 
am to be a demagogue; and many similar illiberal insinuations 
will be thrown out; but, sir, conscious rectitude outweighs these 
things with me. I see great jeopardy in this new government. 
I see none from our present one. I hope some gentleman or 
other will bring forth, in full array, those dangers, if there be 
any, that we may see and touch them. 



DANGER OF MONARCHY 

[From the shorthand report of the Virginia Convention of 1788] 

This constitution is said to have beautiful features; but when 
I come to examine these features, sir, they appear to me horribly 
frightful: among other deformities it has an awful squinting; it 
squints toward monarchy; and does not this raise indignation in 
the breast of every true American? Your president may easily 
become king : your senate is so imperfectly constructed that your 



PATRICK HENRY 341 

dearest rights may be sacrificed by what may be a small minority; 
and a very small minority may continue forever unchangeably 
this government although horridly defective: where are your 
checks in this government ? Your strongholds will be in the hands 
of your enemies ; it is on a supposition that your American govern- 
ors shall be honest, that all the good qualities of this government 
are founded: but its defective, and imperfect construction, puts 
it in their power to perpetrate the worst of mischiefs, should they 
be bad men: and, sir, would not all the world, from the eastern 
to the western hemisphere, blame our distracted folly in resting 
our rights upon the contingency of our rulers being good or bad ? 
Show me that age and country where the rights and liberties of the 
people were placed on the sole chance of their rulers being good 
men, without a consequent loss of liberty? I say that the loss of 
that dearest privilege has ever followed with absolute certainty, 
every such mad attempt. 

If your American chief, be a man of ambition, and abilities, 
how easy it is for him to render himself absolute ! The army is in 
his hands, and, if he be a man of address, it will be attached to 
him; and it vdll be the subject of meditation with him to seize 
the first auspicious moment to accomplish his design; and, sir, 
will the American spirit solely relieve you when this happens? 
I would rather infinitely, and I am sure most of this convention are 
of the same opinion, have a king, lords, and commons, than a 
government, so replete with such insupportable evils. If we make 
a king, we may prescribe the rules by which he shall rule his 
people, and interpose such checks as shall prevent him from in- 
fringing them: but the president in the field at the head of his 
army can prescribe the terms on which he shall reign master, so 
far that it will puzzle any American ever to get his neck from under 
the galling yoke. I cannot with patience think of this idea. If 
ever he violates the laws, one of two things will happen: he will 
come at the head of his army to carry everything before him ; or, 
he will give bail, or do what Mr. Chief Justice will order him. If 
he be guilty, will not the recollection of his crimes teach him to 
make one bold push for the American throne? Will not the 
immense difference between being master of everything, and being 
ignominiously tried and punished, powerfully excite him to make 



342 



EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 



this bold push? But, sir, where is the existing force to punish 
him? Can he not at the head of his army beat down every op- 
position? Away with your president, we shall have a king: the 
army will salute him monarch; your miUtia will leave you and 
assist in making him king, and fight against you, and what have 
you to oppose this force? What will then become of you and 
your rights ? Will not absolute despotism ensue ? 



il 



THOMAS PAINE 

[Thomas Paine, one of the most effective of Revolutionary pamphleteers, 
was a native of England, where he had a not very successful career as stay- 
maker and officer in the excise. In 1774, at the age of thirty-seven, he came 
to Philadelphia, bearing letters from Franklin, whom he had met in Eng- 
land. Though without special literary training or experience, he became 
editor of a magazine, and soon developed a manner of expression that, 
while far from correct or elegant, was wonderfully effective. He took an 
active part in the discussion of public affairs, and in January, 1776, pub- 
lished his pamphlet of "Common Sense," which historians have generally 
credited as a powerful influence in bringing about the Declaration of Inde- 
pendence. Paine served in the army and in various official positions through- 
out the war, and at intervals from 1776 to 1783 he wrote the "Crisis," a se- 
ries of papers which comment on current events and exhort the people to 
patriotic exertions. At the close of the war his services to the country were 
enthusiastically recognized by Congress, and by various state legislatures. 
He then went to Europe, where his "Rights of Man," a reply to Burke's 
"Reflections on the French Revolution," caused him to be outlawed from 
England. In France he was made a "citizen" and was chosen a member 
of the convention. Here he made himself unpopular by his opposition to 
the execution of the king, and was for a time imprisoned. On his release 
he attacked Washington for failure to intervene in his behalf, and this, together 
with his free discussion of religion in "The Age of Reason," made him one 
of the most unpopular men in America. He died in poverty in New York 
in 1S09, and his sad end was many times "improved" as showing the fate of 
an infidel. 

Paine wrote many other works in America and Europe, but the four 
mentioned are of chief interest. On the whole "Common Sense" and 
the "Crisis" are more representative and more creditable than his later 
writings. No other author of his time is better for the study of the qualities 
that give a pamphleteer immediate success, and such a study is well worth 
while because Paine, if not the founder, was the most conspicuous early 
representative of a school of writing that was long popular in America. He 
employed a somewhat heightened rhetorical manner, as in the opening lines 
of the first "Crisis," and he discussed in simple and apparently frank manner 
matter-of-fact details, as in the references to Washington's retreat in the 
same paper. He showed what appeared to his partisans as righteous indig- 
nation, and to others as prejudice and outbreaks of temper, as in his refer- 
ences to the king and the Tories. It was this lack of respectful dignity that 
made Paine so violently disliked by his political opponents, and that gave 

343 



344 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

him his undeserved notoriety as a teacher of irreligion. It is not really the 
radicalism of the views expressed in "The Age of Reason" but an irreverent 
way of dealing with what most persons feel to be sacred things, that gave 
the book its bad name. 

The selections are from the standard edition of Paine's writings, edited 
by Aloncure D. Conway.] 

REASONS FOR INDEPENDENCE 
[From "Common Sense"] 

I challenge the warmest advocate for reconciliation to show a 
single advantage that this continent can reap by being connected 
with Great Britain. I repeat the challenge; not a single ad- 
vantage is derived. Our corn will fetch its price in any market in 
Europe, and our imported goods must be paid for buy them where 
we ^\ill. 

But the injuries and disadvantages which we sustain by that 
connection, are mthout number; and our duty to mankind at 
large, as well as to ourselves, instruct us to renounce the alliance : 
because, any submission to, or dependance on, Great Britain, 
tends directly to involve this Continent in European wars and 
quarrels, and set us at variance with nations who would otherwise 
seek our friendship, and against whom we have neither anger nor 
complaint. As Europe is our market for trade, we ought to form 
no partial connection udth any part of it. It is the true interest 
of America to steer clear of European contentions, which she never 
can do, while, by her dependence on Britain, she is made the 
makeweight in the scale of British politics. 

Europe is too thickly planted mth kingdoms to be long at peace, 
and whenever a war breaks out between England and any foreign 
power, the trade of America goes to ruin, because of her connection 
ivith Britain. The next war may not turn out Uke the last, and 
should it not, the advocates for reconciUation now mil be wishing 
for separation then, because neutraHty in that case would be a 
safer convoy than a man of war. Every thing that is right or 
reasonable pleads for separation. The blood of the slain, the 
weeping voice of nature cries, 'Tis time to part. Even the dis- 
tance at which the Almighty hath placed England and America 
is a strong and natural proof that the authority of the one over the 



THOMAS PAINE 345 

Other, was never the design of Heaven. The time likewise at 
which the Continent was discovered, adds weight to the argument, 
and the manner in which it was peopled, encreases the force of 
it. The Reformation was preceded by the discovery of America : 
As if the Almighty graciously meant to open a sanctuary to the per- 
secuted in future years, when home should afford neither friend- 
ship nor safety. 

The authority of Great Britain over this Continent, is a form of 
government, which sooner or later must have an end: And a 
serious mind can draw no true pleasure by looking forward, under 
the painful and positive conviction that what he calls "the present 
constitution" is merely temporary. As parents, we can have no 
joy, knowing that this government is not sufficiently lasting to 
ensure any thing which we may bequeath to posterity: And by a 
plain method of argument, as we are running the next genera- 
tion into debt, we ought to do the work of it, otherwise we use 
them meanly and pitifully. In order to discover the line of our 
duty rightly, we should take our children in our hand, and fix our 
station a few years farther into life ; that eminence will present a 
prospect which a few present fears and prejudices conceal from 
our sight. 

Though I would carefully avoid giving unnecessary offence, yet 
I am inclined to believe, that all those who espouse the doctrine 
of reconciliation, may be included within the following descriptions. 

Interested men, who are not to be trusted, weak men who cannot 
see, prejudiced men who will not see, and a certain set of moder- 
ate men who think better of the European world than it deserves; 
and this last class, by an ill-judged deliberation, will be the cause 
of more calamities to this Continent than all the other three. 

It is the good fortune of many to live distant from the scene 
of present sorrow; the evil is not sufficiently brought to their 
doors to make them feel the precariousness with which all American 
property is possessed. But let our imaginations transport us a 
few moments to Boston; that seat of wretchedness will teach us 
wisdom, and instruct us forever to renounce a power in whom we 
can have no trust. The inhabitants of that unfortunate city who 
but a few months ago were in ease and affluence, have now no 
other alternative than to stay and starve, or turn out to beg. 



346 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

Endangered by the fire of their friends if they continue within the 
city, and plundered by the soldiery if they leave it, in their pres- 
ent situation they are prisoners without the hope of redemption, 
and in a general attack for their relief they would be exposed to 
the fury of both armies. 

Men of passive tempers look somewhat lightly over the ofifences 
of Great Britain, and, still hoping for the best, are apt to call 
out. Come, come, we shall be friends again for all this. But ex- 
amine the passions and feelings of mankind: bring the doctrine 
of reconciliation to the touchstone of nature, and then tell me 
whether you can hereafter love, honour, and faithfully serve the 
power that hath carried fire and sword into your land? If you 
cannot do all these, then are you only deceiving yourselves, and 
by your delay bringing ruin upon posterity. Your future con- 
nection with Britain, whom you can neither love nor honour, will 
be forced and unnatural, and being formed only on the plan of 
present convenience, will in a little time fall into a relapse more 
wretched than the first. But if you say, you can still pass the 
violations over, then I ask, hath your house been burnt? Hath 
your property been destroyed before your face? Are your wife 
and children destitute of a bed to lie on, or bread to live on ? Have 
you lost a parent or a child by their hands, and yourself the ruined 
and wretched survivor? If you have not, then are you not a 
judge of those who have. But if you have, and can still shake 
hands with the murderers, then are you unworthy the name of 
husband, father, friend, or lover, and whatever may be your rank 
or title in life, you have the heart of a coward, and the spirit of a 
sycophant. 

This is not inflaming or exaggerating matters, but trying them 
by those feelings and aflfections which nature justifies, and without 
which we should be incapable of discharging the social duties of 
life, or enjoying the felicities of it. I mean not to exhibit horror 
for the purpose of provoking revenge, but to awaken us from fatal 
and unmanly slumbers, that we may pursue determinately some 
fixed object. 'Tis not in the power of Britain or of Europe to 
conquer America, if she doth not conquer herself by delay and 
timidity. The present winter is worth an age if rightly employed, 
but if lost or neglected the whole Continent will partake of the 



THOMAS PAINE 347 

misfortune; and there is no punishment which that man doth 
not deserve, be he who, or what, or where he will, that may be the 
means of sacrificing a season so precious and useful. 

'Tis repugnant to reason, to the universal order of things, to all 
examples from former ages, to suppose that this Continent can long 
remain subject to any external power. The most sanguine in 
Britain doth not think so. The utmost stretch of human wisdom 
cannot, at this time, compass a plan, short of separation, which 
can promise the Continent even a year's security. Reconciliation 
is now a fallacious dream. Nature hath deserted the connection, 
and art cannot supply her place. For, as Milton wisely expresses, 
"never can true reconcilement grow where wounds of deadly hate 
have pierced so deep." 

Every quiet method for peace hath been ineffectual Our 
prayers have been rejected with disdain; and hath tended to con- 
vince us that nothing flatters vanity or confirms obstinacy in Kings 
more than repeated petitioning — and nothing hath contributed 
more than that very measure to make the Kings of Europe absolute. 
Witness Denmark and Sweden. Wherefore, since nothing but 
blows will do, for God's sake let us come to a final separation, and 
not leave the next generation to be cutting throats under the vio- 
lated unmeaning names of parent and child. 

"THE TIMES THAT TRY MEN'S SOULS" 

[From "The Crisis"] 

These are the times that try men's souls. The summer soldier 
and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service 
of their country; but he that stands it now, deserves the love and 
thanks of man and woman. • Tyranny, like hell, is not easily con- 
quered ; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the 
conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too 
cheap, we esteem too lightly: it is dearness only that gives every 
thing its value. Heaven knows how to put a proper price upon 
its goods ; and it would be strange indeed if so celestial an article 
as FREEDOM should not be highly rated. Britain, with an army to 
enforce her tyranny, has declared that she has a right {iiot only to 
tax) but "to BIND w,y WALL CASES WHATSOEVER," and if being &ozm(^ 



348 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

in that manner, is not slavery, then there is not such a thing as 
slavery upon earth. Even the expression is impious; for so un- 
limited a power can belong only to God. 

Whether the independence of the continent was declared too 
soon, or delayed too long, I will not now enter into as an argument ; 
my own simple opinion is, that had it been eight months earlier, it 
would have been much better. We did not make a proper use of 
last winter, neither could we, while we were in a dependent state. 
However, the fault, if it were one, was all our own ; ^ we have none 
to blame but ourselves. But no great deal is lost yet. All that 
Howe has been doing for this month past, is rather a ravage than 
a conquest, which the spirit of the Jerseys, a year ago, would have 
quickly repulsed, and which time and a little resolution will soon 
recover. 

I have as little superstition in me as any man living, but my secret 
opinion has ever been, and still is, that God Almighty will not give 
up a people to military destruction, or leave them unsupportedly 
to perish, who have so earnestly and so repeatedly sought to avoid 
the calamities of war, by every decent method which wisdom 
could invent. Neither have I so much of the infidel in me, as to 
suppose that He has relinquished the government of the world, 
and given us up to the care of devils ; and as I do not, I cannot 
see on what grounds the king of Britain can look up to heaven for 
help against us : a common murderer, a highwayman, or a house- 
breaker, has as good a pretence as he. 

'Tis surprising to see how rapidly a panic will sometimes run 
through a country. All nations and ages have been subject to 
them : Britain has trembled like an ague at the report of a French 
fleet of flat bottomed boats ; and in the fourteenth century the whole 
English army, after ravaging the kingdom of France, was driven 
back like men petrified with fear; and this brave exploit was per- 
formed by a few broken forces collected and headed by a woman, 
Joan of Arc. Would that heaven might inspire some Jersey maid 
to spirit up her countrymen, and save her fair fellow sufferers 

1 The present winter is worth an age, if rightly employed ; but, if lost or 
neglected, the whole continent will partake of the evil; and there is no punish- 
ment that man does not deserve, be he who, or what, or where he will, that may 
be the means of sacrificing a season so precious and useful. [Author's note — a 
citation from his "Common Sense."] 



THOMAS PAINE 349 

from ravage and ravishment ! Yet panics, in some cases, have 
their uses; they produce as much good as hurt. Their duration 
is always short ; the mind soon grows through them, and acquires 
a firmer habit than before. But their peculiar advantage is, that 
they are the touchstones of sincerity and hypocrisy, and bring 
things and men to light, which might otherwise have lain forever 
undiscovered. In fact, they have the same effect on secret traitors, 
which an imaginary apparition would have upon a private murderer. 
They sift out the hidden thoughts of man, and hold them up in 
public to the world. Many a disguised tory has lately shown his 
head, that shall penitentially solemnize with curses the day on 
which Howe arrived upon the Delaware. 

As I was with the troops at Fort Lee, and marched with them 
to the edge of Pennsylvania, I am well acquainted with many 
circumstances, which those who live at a distance know but little 
or nothing of. Our situation there was exceedingly cramped, 
the place being a narrow neck of land between the North River 
and the Hackensack. Our force was inconsiderable, being not 
one fourth so great as Howe could bring against us. We had no 
army at hand to have relieved the garrison, had we shut our- 
selves up and stood on our defence. Our ammunition, light 
artillery, and the best part of our stores, had been removed, on 
the apprehension that Howe would endeavor to penetrate the 
Jerseys, in which case Fort Lee could be of no use to us; for it 
must occur to every thinking man, whether in the army or not, 
that these kind of field forts are only for temporary purposes, 
and last in use no longer than the enemy directs his force against 
the particular object, which such forts are raised to defend. 
Such was our situation and condition at fort Lee on the morning 
of the 20th of November, when an officer arrived with informa- 
tion that the enemy with 200 boats had landed about seven miles 
above: Major General Green, who commanded the garrison, 
immediately ordered them under arms, and sent express to General 
Washington at the town of Hackensack, distant by the way of the 
ferry = six miles. Our first object was to secure the bridge over 
the Hackensack, which laid up the river between the enemy 
and us, about six miles from us, and three from them. General 
Washington arrived in about three quarters of an hour, and 



350 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

marched at the head of the troops towards the bridge, which 
place I expected we should have a brush for; however, they did 
not choose to dispute it vnth us, and the greatest part of our 
troops went over the bridge, the rest over the ferry, except some 
which passed at a mill on a small creek, between the bridge and 
the ferry, and made their way through some marshy grounds up 
to the town of Hackensack, and there passed the river. We 
brought off as much baggage as the wagons could contain, the 
rest was lost. The simple object was to bring off the garrison, 
and march them on till they could be strengthened by the Jersey 
or Pennsylvania militia, so as to be enabled to make a stand. 
We staid four days at Newark, collected our out-posts vrith some 
of the Jersey militia, and marched out twice to meet the enemy, 
on being inform.ed that they were advancing, though our num- 
bers were greatly inferior to theirs. Howe, in my little opinion, 
committed a great error in generalship in not throwing a body 
of forces off from Staten Island through Amboy, by which means 
he might have seized all our stores at Brunswick, and intercepted 
our march into Pennsylvania ; but if we beheve the power of hell 
to be limited, we must Ukewise believe that their agents are under 
some providential controul. 

I shall not now attempt to give all the particulars of our retreat 
to the Delaware; suffice it for the present to say, that both officers 
and men, though greatly harrassed and fatigued, frequently with- 
out rest, covering, or provision, the inevitable consequences of a 
long retreat, bore it with a manly and martial spirit. All their 
wishes centered in one, which was, that the country would turn 
out and help them to drive the enemy back. Voltaire has re- 
marked that King William never appeared to full advantage but 
in difficulties and in action; the same remark may be made on 
General Washington, for the character fits him. There is a 
natural firmness in some minds which cannot be unlocked by 
trifles, but which, when unlocked, discovers a cabinet of fortitude ; 
and I reckon it among those kind of public blessings, which we 
do not immediately see, that God hath blessed him with unin- 
terrupted health, and given him a mind that can even flourish 
upon care. 

I shall conclude this paper with some miscellaneous remarks 



THOMAS PAINE 35 1 

on the state of our affairs; and shall begin with asking the fol- 
lowing question, Why is it that the enemy have left the New- 
England provinces, and made these middle ones the seat of war ? 
The answer is easy: New-England is not infested with tories, 
and we are. I have been tender in raising the cry against these 
men, and used numberless arguments to show them their dan- 
ger, but it will not do to sacrifice a world either to their folly or 
their baseness. The period is now arrived, in which either they 
or we must change our sentiments, or one or both must fall. 
And what is a tory? Good God! what is he? I should not be 
afraid to go with a hundred whigs against a thousand tories, 
were they to attempt to get into arms. Every tory is a coward; 
for servile, slavish, self-interested fear is the foundation of toryism ; 
and a man under such influence, though he may be cruel, never 
can be brave. 

But, before the line of irrecoverable separation be drawn 
between us, let us reason the matter together: Your conduct is 
an invitation to the enemy, yet not one in a thousand of you has 
heart enough to join him. Howe is as much deceived by you 
as the American cause is injured by you. He expects you will 
all take up arms, and flock to his standard, with muskets on your 
shoulders. Your opinions are of no use to him, unless you sup- 
port him personally, for 'tis soldiers, and not tories, that he wants. 

I once felt all that kind of anger, which a man ought to feel, 
against the mean principles that are held by the tories: a noted 
one, who kept a tavern at Amboy, was standing at his door, 
with as pretty a child in his hand, about eight or nine years old, 
as ever I saw, and after speaking his mind as freely as he thought 
was prudent, finished with this unfatherly expression, "Well! 
give me peace in my day." Not a man lives on the continent 
but fully believes that a separation must some time or other 
finally take place, and a generous parent should have said, " IJ 
there must he trouble, let it be in my day, that my child may have 
peace;" and this single reflection, well applied, is sufficient to 
awaken every man to duty. Not a place upon earth might be 
so happy as America. Her situation is remote from all the 
wrangling world, and she has nothing to do but to trade with 
them. A man can distinguish himself between temper and 



352 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

principle, and I am as confident, as I am that God governs the 
world, that America will never be happy till she gets clear of 
foreign dominion. Wars, without ceasing, will break out till 
that period arrives, and the continent must in the end be con- 
queror; for though the flame of liberty may sometimes cease to 
shine, the coal can never expire. 



THOMAS JEFFERSON 



[The main facts in the life of Thomas Jefferson are too well known to 
need more than the briefest restatement here. He was born in Virginia 
in 1743, received his education at William and Mary College, and studied 
law. He inherited a considerable estate, which was increased by his mar- 
riage, and throughout life he took great interest in agriculture and horti- 
culture, and conducted many experiments in both lines of industry. In 
1769 be became a member of the Virginia House of Burgesses, and from this 
time until the close of his presidential term he was active in public life. 
Although a relatively young member of the Congress, he was given a 
place on the committee to prepare a Declaration of Independence, and was 
chosen by the committee to draft the document. Among the more important 
oflSces that he held were governor of Virginia, member of the Peace Commis- 
sion, Secretary of State, Vice-President, and from 1801 to 1809 President of 
the United States. From 1809 until his death in 1826 he lived in retirement 
on his estate at Monticello. 

Jefferson's writings, which in the latest edition fill ten volumes, are largely 
state papers and letters. The "Notes on Virginia," his most ambitious 
single work, was written in response to inquiries sent out by the French 
government in 1781, privately printed by the author in Paris in 1784, and 
published in London in 1787. Since that time it has been, according to 
Jefferson's latest edito.r, "perhaps the most frequently reprinted book ever 
written in the United States south of Mason and Dixon's line." It illus- 
trates Jefferson's wide interest in all scientific and economic matters, his 
genius for acquiring and managing details, and his fondness for theorizing. 
The "Autobiography" and the "Anas," both written late in life, give much 
information regarding the public affairs with which Jefferson was so long 
concerned. Many of his letters are interesting, and touch a wide variety of 
topics. 

Jefferson's chief characteristics as a writer can be seen in the Declaration 
of Independence, which it is to be hoped need not be included in a collec- 
tion like this volume. He had a faculty of making general statements in 
sounding phrases, and he could marshal details with telling effect. The 
opening and closing passages of the Declaration, and the catalogue of griev- 
ances, respectively illustrate these methods. In judging the Declaration it 
must in justice be borne in mind that Jefferson was asked to prepare, not 
an exposition of his personal views, but a document that would be agreed to 
by all the colonies, and that would be accepted by the general public as a 
defence of the colonial action. Whatever the defects of the Declaration as 

2 A 353 



354 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

a political and literary classic, it can hardly be denied that the author suc- 
ceeded in accomplishing what he set out to do. The mass of his writings, 
while many of them show one or the other of the qualities already referred 
to, are likely to be somewhat disappointing to the reader of to-day. 

All the selections here given are from the latest and most complete col- 
lection of Jefferson's writings, edited by Paul Leicester Ford. The selec- 
tion from the "Notes on Virginia" follows the text of the first edition, of 
1784. The "Inaugural Address" follows the manuscript draft in Jefferson's 
autograph, which was possibly intended for reference during the delivery 
of the, address, and which abounds in contractions of words, and oddities 
of paragraphing, — even parts of sentences being written as separate para- 
graphs. These peculiarities have not been retained in printing the selection.] 

THE FRAMING OF THE DECLARATION 

[From the "Autobiography"] 

It appearing in the course of these debates ^ that the colonies 
of N. Yorlv, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware, Maryland, 
and South Carolina were not yet matured for falling from the 
parent stem, but that they were fast advancing to that state, it 
was thought most prudent to wait a while for them, and to post- 
pone the final decision to July i. but that this might occasion as 
little delay as possible a committee was appointed to prepare a 
declaration of independence. The commee were J. Adams, Dr. 
Franklin, Roger Sherman, Robert R. Livingston & myself. 
Committees were also appointed at the same time to prepare a 
plan of confederation for the colonies, and to state the ierms 
proper to be proposed for foreign alliance. The committee for 
drawing the declaration of Independence desired me to do it. 
It was accordingly done, and being approved by them, I reported 
it to the house on Friday the 28th of June when it was read and 
ordered to He on the table. On Monday, the ist of July the 
house resolved itself into a commee of the whole & resumed the 
consideration of the original motion made by the delegates of 
Virginia, which being again debated through the day, was carried 
in the afifirmative by the votes of N. Hampshire, Connecticut, 
Massachusetts, Rhode Island, N. Jersey, Maryland, Virginia, 
N. Carolina, & Georgia. S. Carolina and Pennsylvania voted 

[* On a motion of the Virginia delegates declaring the colonies independent of 
Great Britain.] 



THOMAS JEFFERSON 355 

against it. Delaware having but two members present, they 
were divided. The delegates for New York declared they were 
for it themselves & were assured their constituents were for it, 
but that their instructions having been drawn near a twelvemonth 
before, when reconciliation was still the general object, they were 
enjoined by them to do nothing which should impede that object. 
They therefore thought themselves not justifiable in voting on 
either side, and asked leave to withdraw from the question, which 
was given them. The commee rose & reported their resolution 
to the house. Mr. Edward Rutlcdge of S. Carolina then re- 
quested the determination might be put off to the next day, as 
he believed his colleagues, tho' they disapproved of the resolu- 
tion, would then join in it for the sake of unanimity. The ulti- 
mate question whether the house would agree to the resolution of 
the committee was accordingly postponed to the next day, when 
it was again moved and S. Carolina concurred in voting for it. 
In the meantime a third member had come post from the Dela- 
ware counties and turned the vote of that colony in favour of the 
resolution. Members of a different sentiment attending that 
morning from Pennsylvania also, their vote was changed, so that 
the whole 12 colonies who were authorized to vote at all, gave 
their voices for it; and within a few days, the convention of 
N. York approved of it and thus supplied the void occasioned 
by the withdrawing of her delegates from the vote. 

Congress proceeded the same day to consider the declaration 
of Independance which had been reported & lain on the table 
the Friday preceding, and on Monday referred to a commee of 
the whole. The pusillanimous idea that we had friends in Eng- 
land worth keeping terms with, still haunted the minds of many. 
For this reason those passages which conveyed censures on the 
people of England were struck out, lest they should give them 
offence. The clause too, reprobating the enslaving the inhabit- 
ants of Africa, was struck out in complaisance to South Carolina 
and Georgia, who had never attempted to restrain the importa- 
tion of slaves, and who on the contrary still wished to continue it. 
Our northern brethren also I believe felt a little tender under 
those censures; for tho' their people have very few slaves them- 
selves yet they had been pretty considerable carriers of them to 



356 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

others. The debates having taken up the greater parts of the 
2d 3d & 4th days of July were, in the evening of the last, closed 
the declaration was reported by the commee, agreed to by the 
house and signed by every member present except Mr. Dickinson. 

THE NATURAL BRIDGE 

[From the "Notes on Virginia"] 

The Natural bridge, the most subHme of Nature's works, though 
not comprehended under the present head, must not be preter- 
mitted. It is on the ascent of a hill, which seems to have been 
cloven through its length by some great convulsion. The fissure, 
just at the bridge, is, by some admeasurements, 270 feet deep, 
by others only 205. It is about 45 feet wide at the bottom and 
90 feet at the top; this of course determines the length of the 
bridge and its height from the water. Its breadth in the middle 
is about 60 feet, but more at the ends, and the thickness of the 
mass at the summit of the arch, about 40 feet. A part of this 
thickness is constituted by a coat of earth, v/hich gives growth 
to many large trees. The residue, with the hill on both sides, 
is one solid rock of limestone. The arch approaches the Semi- 
elliptical form; but the larger axis of the ellipsis, which would 
be the cord of the arch, is many times longer than the transverse. 
Though the sides of this bridge are provided in some parts with 
a parapet of fixed rocks, yet few men have resolution to walk to 
them, and look over into the abyss. You involuntarily fall on 
your hands and feet, creep to the parapet, and peep over it. 
Looking down from this height about a minute, gave me a violent 
head ach. If the view from the top be painful and intolerable, 
that from below is delightful in an equal extreme. It is impossi- 
ble for the emotions arising from the sublime to be felt beyond 
v^hat they are here; so beautiful an arch, so elevated, so light, 
and springing as it were up to heaven, the rapture of the spectator 
is really indescribable ! The fissure continuing narrow, deep, 
and streight for a considerable distance above and below the 
bridge, opens a short but very pleasing view of the North moun- 
tain on one side, and the Blue ridge on the other, at the distance 
each of them of about five miles. This bridge is in the county 



1 



THOMAS JEFFERSON 357 

of Rockbridge, to which it has given name, and affords a public 
and commodious passage over a valley which cannot be crossed 
elsewhere for a considerable distance. The stream passing under 
it is called Cedar Creek. It is a water of James river, and suffi- 
cient in the driest seasons to turn a grist mill, though its fountain 
is not more than two miles above. 

FIRST INAUGURAL ADDRESS 

Friends and fellow citizens 

Called upon to undertake the duties of the first Executive 
office of our country, I avail myself of the presence of that portion 
of my fellow citizens which is here assembled to express my 
grateful thanks for the favor with which they have been pleased 
to look towards me, to declare a sincere consciousness that the 
task is above my talents, and that I approach it with those anxious 
and awful presentiments, which the greatness of the charge, and 
the weakness of my powers so justly inspire. A rising nation 
spread over a \^^de and fruitful land, traversing all the seas with 
the rich productions of their industry, engaged in commerce with 
nations who feel power and forget right, advancing rapidly to 
destinies beyond the reach of mortal eye; when I contemplate 
these transcendent objects, and see the honor, the happiness, and 
the l^opes of this beloved country committed to the issue and the 
auspices of this day, I shrink from the contemplation, and humble 
myself before the magnitude of the undertaking. 

Utterly indeed should I despair, did not the presence of many 
whom I here see, remind me, that in the other high authorities 
provided by our constitution, I shall find resources of wisdom, of 
virtue and of zeal, on which to rely under all difficulties. To you 
then, gentlemen, who are charged with the sovereign functions of 
legislation, and to those associated with you, I look with encour- 
agement for that guidance and support which may enable us to 
steer with safety, the vessel in which we are all embarked amidst 
the conflicting elements of a troubled sea. 

During the contest of opinion through which we have passed, 
the animation of discussions and of exertions, has sometimes 
worn an aspect which might impose on strangers unused to think 



358 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

freely, and to speak and to write what they think. But this being 
now decided by the voice of the nation, ennounced according to 
the rules of the constitution, all will of course arrange themselves 
under the will of the law, and unite in common efforts for the 
common good. All too mil bear in mind the sacred principle 
that though the will of the Majority is in all cases to prevail, that 
will, to be rightful, must be reasonable: that the Minority possess 
their equal rights, which equal laws must protect, and to violate 
would be oppression. 

Let us then, fellow citizens, unite with one heart and one mind ; 
let us restore to social intercourse that harmony and affection, 
without which Liberty, and even Life itself, are but dreary things. 
And let us reflect that having banished from our land that reli- 
gious intolerance under which mankind so long bled and suffered 
we have yet gained Httle, if we countenance a political intolerance, 
as despotic, as wicked and capable of as bitter and bloody perse- 
cution. During the throes and convulsions of the antient world, 
during the agonized spasms of infuriated man, seeking through 
blood and slaughter his long lost liberty, it was not wonderful 
that the agitation of the billows should reach even this distant 
and peaceful shore: that this should be more felt and feared by 
some, and less by others, and should divide opinions as to meas- 
ures of safety. But every difference of opinion, is not a difference 
of principle. We have called, by different names, brethren of the 
same principle. We are all republicans: we are all federalists. 
If there be any among us who wish to dissolve this union, or to 
change its repubHcan form, let them stand undisturbed, as monu- 
ments of the safety with which error of opinion may be tolerated 
where reason is left free to combat it. 

I know indeed that some honest men have feared that a repub- 
lican government cannot be strong; that this government is not 
strong enough. But would the honest patriot, in the full tide of 
successful experiment abandon a government which has so far 
kept us free and firm on the theoretic and visionary fear that this 
government, the world's best hope may, by possibiUty, want 
energy to preserve itself ? I trust not. I beUeve this, on the con- 
trary, the strongest government on earth. I believe it the only 
one where every man, at the call of the law, would fly to the 



THOMAS JEFFERSON 359 

standard of the law; would meet invasions of public order, as 
his own personal concern. Some times it is said that man can- 
not be trusted with the government of himself. — Can he then 
be trusted with the government of others? Or have we found 
angels in the form of kings to govern him ? — Let History answer 
this question. 

Let us then pursue with courage and confidence our own 
federal and republican principles, our attachment to Union and 
Representative government. Kindly separated by nature, and a 
wide ocean, from the exterminating havoc of one quarter of the 
globe, Too high-minded to endure the degradations of the others; 
Possessing a chosen country, with room enough for all descendants 
to the 1, 000th and i, 000th generation; Entertaining a due sense 
of our equal right to the use of our own faculties, to the acqui- 
sitions of our own industry, to honor and confidence from our 
fellow citizens resulting not from birth, but from our actions and 
their sense of them, enlightened by a benign religion, professed 
indeed and practiced in various forms, yet all of them inculcat- 
ing honesty, truth, temperance, gratitude, and the love of man, 
acknowledging and adoring an over-ruling providence, which by 
all its dispensations proves that it delights in the happiness of 
man here, and his greater happiness hereafter: With all these 
blessings, what more is necessary to make us a happy and a 
prosperous people? Still one thirig more, fellow citizens, a wise 
and frugal government, which shall restrain men from injuring 
one another, shall leave them otherwise free to regulate their own 
pursuits of industry and improvement, and shall not take from 
the mouth of labor the bread it has earned. This is the sum of 
good government, and this is necessary to close the circle of our 
felicities. 

About to enter fellow citizens on the exercise of duties, which 
comprehend everything dear and valuable to you, it is proper you 
should understand what I deem the essential principles of this 
government and consequently those which ought to shape it's 
administration. I will compress them in the narrowest compass 
they will bear, stating the general principle, but not all its limita- 
tions. Equal and exact justice to all men, of whatever state or 
persuasion, religious or political: Peace, commerce, and honest 



360 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

friendship with all nations, entangling alliances with none: The 
support of the State governments in all their rights, as the most 
competent administrators for our domestic concerns, and the 
surest bulwarks against anti republican tendencies: The preser- 
vation of the General government, in it's whole constitutional 
vigor, as the sheet anchor of our peace at home, and safety abroad. 
A jealous care of the right of election by the people, a mild and 
safe corrective of abuses, which are lopped by the sword of revo- 
lution, where peaceable remedies are unprovided. Absolute ac- 
quiescence in the decisions of the Majority, the vital principle 
of republics, from which is no appeal but to force, the vital prin- 
ciple and immediate parent of despotism. A well disciplined 
mihtia, our best reliance in peace, and for the first moments of 
war, till regulars may relieve them : The Supremacy of the Civil 
over the Military authority: Economy in public expense, that 
labor may be lightly burthened: The honest paiment of our 
debts and sacred preservation of the public faith: Encourage- 
ment of Agriculture, and of Commerce as its handmaid: The 
diffusion of information, and arraignment of all abuses at the bar 
of the public reason : Freedom of ReHgion, freedom of the press, 
and freedom of Person under the protection of the Habeas corpus : 
And trial by juries, impartially selected. These principles form 
the bright constellation which has gone before us, and guided 
our steps, thro' an age of Revolution and Reformation : The wis- 
dom of our Sages, and blood of our Heroes, have been devoted 
to their attainment: they should be the Creed of our political 
faith, the Text of civic instruction, the Touchstone by which to 
try the services of those we trust; and should we wander from 
them, in moments of error or alarm, let us hasten to retrace our 
steps and to regain the road which alone leads to Peace, Liberty 
and Safety. 

I repair then, fellow citizens to the post which you have as- 
signed me. With experience enough in subordinate stations to 
know the difficulties of this the greatest of all, I have learnt to 
expect that it will rarely fall to the lot of imperfect man to retire 
from this station with the reputation and the favor which bring 
him into it. Without pretensions to that high confidence you 
reposed in our first and greatest revolutionary character whose 



THOMAS JEFFERSON 36 1 

pre-eminent services had entitled him to the first place in his 
country's love, and had destined for him the fairest page in the 
volume of faithful history, I ask so much confidence only as may 
give firmness and effect to the legal administration of your affairs. 
I shall often go wrong thro' defect of judgment: when right, I 
shall often be thought wrong by those whose positions will not 
command a view of the whole ground. I ask your indulgence 
for my own errors, which will never be intentional: and your 
support against the errors of others who may condemn what they 
would not if seen in all its parts. The approbation implied by 
your suffrage, is a great consolation to me for the past; and my 
future solicitude will be to retain the good opinion of those who 
have bestowed it in advance, to conciliate that of others, by doing 
them all the good in my power, and to be instrumental to the 
happiness and freedom of all. Relying then on the patronage 
of your good will, I advance with obedience to the work, ready to 
retire from it whenever you become sensible how much better 
choice it is in your power to make. And may that infinite power 
which rules the destinies of the universe lead our councils to what 
is best,' and give them a favorable issue for your peace and pros- 
perity. 



ALEXANDER HAMILTON 

[Alexander Hamilton was born in the West India Islands in 1757. At the 
age of thirteen he was performing important duties as clerk in a counting- 
house; at the age of fifteen he was sent by friends and relatives to New 
York, where he entered King's College, now Columbia; and at the age of 
seventeen he wrote "A Full Vindication of the Measures of Congress from 
the calumnies of their enemies, in answer to a letter under the signature of 
a Westchester Farmer." This pamphlet and its immediate successor, "The 
Farmer Refuted," replied so effectively to the powerful loyalist writings of 
"The Westchester Farmer" that they brought the young college student into 
general notice, and from this time until his death in 1804, Hamilton was a 
public man. During the war he served as an officer, and for a considerable 
time was a member of Washington's staff, and had charge of Washington's 
official correspondence. Later he was member of Congress, member of the 
constitutional convention, and Secretary of the Treasury under Washington. 
His achievements in establishing the financial system of the nation are mat- 
ters of political history. After he left the cabinet he remained a real and 
continually active leader of the Federalist party. The duel in which he was 
fatally wounded by Aaron Burr was the result of political disagreements. 

In his political writings, which constitute practically all his works, Hamil- 
ton shows a literary style unsurpassed for its purpose by that of any Revo- 
lutionary statesman. As might be expected from his age and the circum- 
stances under which he wrote, his earliest pamphlets show a certain specious- 
ness of argument, and an occasional appeal to popular feeling. His later 
writings are equally notable for clearness of statement and logical accuracy 
of thought. The greatest work of his pen was "The Federalist." This 
series of letters to the people of the State of New York was the joint work 
of Hamilton, Madison, and Jay; but Hamilton originated the plan, and 
wrote the great majority of the numbers. It was probably the most powerful 
single influence in securing the adoption of the Federal constitution, and it 
has since become established as one of our greatest political classics. It is 
a remarkable tribute to Hamilton's mastery of expression that this work was 
effective as a popular campaign document in 1788, and is still recognized 
by the courts and by students of constitutional law as one of the ablest and 
most exact expositions of the theory of our government. Many of Hamilton's 
later state papers, especially those dealing with finance, are models of their 
kind. 

The selections here given follow the best edition of Hamilton's works, that 
prepared by Henry Cabot Lodge. The text of the " Federalist " is that of the 
original publication.] 

362 



ALEXANDER HAMILTON 363 

THE ISSUE STATED 
[From "A Full Vindication"] 

The only distinction between freedom and slavery consists in 
this : In the former state a man is governed by the laws to which 
he has given his consent, either in person or by his representative; 
in the latter, he is governed by the will of another. In the one 
case, his life and property are his own ; in the other, they depend 
upon the pleasure of his master. It is easy to discern which of 
these two states is preferable. No man in his senses can hesitate 
in choosing to be free, rather than a slave. 

That Americans are entitled to freedom is incontestable on 
every rational principle. All men have one common original: 
they participate in one common nature, and consequently have 
one common right. No reason can be assigned why one man 
should exercise any power or pre-eminence over his fellow-creatures 
more than another; unless they have voluntarily vested him with 
it. Since, then, Americans have not, by any act of theirs, em- 
powered the British Parhament to make laws for them, it follows 
they can have no just authority to do it. 

Besides the clear voice of natural justice in this respect, the 
fundamental principles of the English constitution are in our 
favor. It has been repeatedly demonstrated that the idea of 
legislation or taxation, when the subject is not represented, is 
inconsistent with that. Nor is this all ; our charters, the express 
conditions on which our progenitors relinquished their native 
countries, and came to settle in this, preclude every claim of 
ruHng and taxing us without our assent. 

Every subterfuge that sophistn > is been able to invent, to 
evade or obscure this truth, has bcfcii refuted by the most con- 
clusive reasonings; so that we may pronounce it a matter of 
undeniable certainty, that the pretensions of Parhament are con- 
tradictory to the law of nature, subversive of the British constitu- 
tion, and destructive of the faith of the most solemn compacts. 

What, then, is the subject of our controversy with the mother 
country? It is this: Whether we shall preserve that security to 
our lives and properties, which the law of nature, the genius of 
the British constitution, and our charters, afford us; or whether 



364 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

v/e shall resign them into the hands of the British House of Com- 
mons, which is no more privileged to dispose of them than the 
Great Mogul ? What can actuate those men who labor to delude 
any of us into an opinion that the object of contention between 
the parent state and the colonies is only three pence duty upon 
tea? or that the commotions in America originate in a plan, 
formed by some turbulent men, to erect it into a republican gov- 
ernment? The ParHament claims a right to tax us in all cases 
whatsoever; its late acts are in virtue of that claim. How ridicu- 
lous, then, is it to affirm that we are quarrelling for the trifling 
sum of three pence a pound on tea, when it is evidently the prin- 
ciple against which we contend. 

THE FEDERALIST. No. XXIV 

To the People of the State of New York : 

To the powers proposed to be conferred upon the federal gov- 
ernment, in respect to the creation and direction of the national 
forces, I have met with but one specific objection, which, if I 
understand it right, is this, — that proper provision has not been 
made against the existence of standing armies in time of peace; 
an objection which, I shall now endeavor to show, rests on weak 
and unsubstantial foundations. 

It has indeed been brought forward in the most vague and 
general form, supported only by bold assertions, without the 
appearance of argument; without even the sanction of theo- 
retical opinions; in contradiction to the practice of other free 
nations, and to the general sense of America, as expressed in 
most of the existing constitutfions. The propriety of this remark 
will appear, the moment it is' recollected that the objection under 
consideration turns upon a supposed necessity of restraining the 
LEGISLATIVE authority of the nation, in the article of mihtary 
establishments; a principle unheard of, except in one or two of 
our State constitutions, and rejected in all the rest. 

A stranger to our politics, who was to read our newspapers at 
the present juncture, without having previously inspected the 
plan reported by the convention, would be naturally led to one 
of two conclusions : either that it contained a positive injunction, 



ALEXANDER HAMILTON 365 

that standing armies should be kept up in time of peace; or that 
it vested in the executive the whole power of levying troops, 
without subjecting his discretion, in any shape, to the control of 
the legislature. 

If he came afterwards to peruse the plan itself, he would be 
surprised to discover, that neither the one nor the other was the 
case; that the whole power of raising armies was lodged in the 
Legislature, not in the Executive; that this legislature was to be 
a popular body, consisting of the representatives of the people 
periodically elected; and that instead of the provision he had 
supposed in favor of standing armies, there was to be found, in 
respect to this object, an important qualification even of the 
legislative discretion, in that clause which forbids the appropria- 
tion of money for the support of an army for any longer period 
than two years — a precaution which, upon a nearer view of it, 
will appear to be a great and real security against the keeping up 
of troops without evident necessity. 

Disappointed in his first surmise, the person I have supposed 
would be apt to pursue his conjectures a little further. He would 
naturally say to himself, it is impossible that all this vehement 
and pathetic declamation can be without some colorable pretext. 
It must needs be that this people, so jealous of their liberties, 
have, in all the preceding models of the constitutions which they 
have established, inserted the most precise and rigid precautions 
on this point, the omission of which, in the new plan, has given 
birth to all this apprehension and clamor. 

If, under this impression, he proceeded to pass in review the 
several State constitutions, how great would be his disappointment 
to find that two only of them ^ contained an interdiction of standing 

' This statement of the matter is taken from the printed collection of State 
constitutions. Pennsylvania and North Carolina are the two which contain the 
interdiction in these words: "As standing armies in time of peace are dangerous 
to liberty, they ought not to be kept up." This is, in truth, rather a caution 
than a prohibition. New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Delaware, and Mary- 
land have, in each of their bills of rights, a clause to this effect: "Stand- 
ing armies are dangerous to liberty, and ought not to be raised or kept up 
without the consent of the Legislature;" which is a formal admission 
of the authority of the Legislature. New York has no bills of rights, and her 
constitution says not a word about the matter. No bills of rights appear annexed 
to the constitutions of the other States, except the foregoing, and their constitu- 



366 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

armies in time of peace; that the other eleven had either observed 
a profound silence on the subject, or had in express terms ad- 
mitted the right of the Legislature to authorize their existence. 

Still, however, he M^ould be persuaded that there must be some 
plausible foundation for the cry raised on this head. He would 
never be able to imagine, while any source of information remained 
unexplored, that it was nothing more than an experiment upon 
the public credulity, dictated either by a deUberate intention to 
deceive, or by the overflowings of a zeal too intemperate to be 
ingenuous. It would probably occur to him, that he would be 
likely to find the precautions he was in search of in the primitive 
compact between the States. Here, at length, he would expect 
to meet with a solution of the enigma. No doubt, he would 
observe to himself, the existing Confederation must contain the 
most explicit provisions against military establishments in time 
of peace; and a departure from this model, in a favorite point, 
has occasioned the discontent which appears to influence these 
political champions. 

If he should now apply himself to a careful and critical survey 
of the articles of Confederation, his astonishment would not only 
be increased, but would acquire a mixture of indignation, at the 
unexpected discovery, that these articles, instead of containing 
the prohibition he looked for, and though they had, with jealous 
circumspection, restricted the authority of the State legislatures 
in this particular, had not imposed a single restraint on that of 
the United States. If he happened to be a man of quick sen- 
sibility, or ardent temper, he could now no longer refrain from 
regarding these clamors as the dishonest artifices of a sinister and 
unprincipled opposition to a plan which ought at least to receive 
a fair and candid examination from all sincere lovers of their 
country ! How else, he would say, could the authors of them 
have been tempted to vent such loud censures upon that plan, 
about a point in which it seems to have conformed itself to the 
general sense of America as declared in its different forms of 

tions are equally silent. I am told, however, that one or two States have bills of 
rights which do not appear in this collection; but that those also recognize the 
right of the legislative authority in this respect. 

— PUBLIUS. 



ALEXANDER HAMILTON 367 

government, and in which it has even superadded a new and 
powerful guard unknown to any of them? If, on the contrary, 
he happened to be a man of calm and dispassionate feelings, he 
would indulge a sigh for the frailty of human nature, and would 
lament, that in a matter so interesting to the happiness of millions, 
the true merits of the question should be perplexed and entangled 
by expedients so unfriendly to an impartial and right determina- 
tion. Even such a man could hardly forbear remarking, that a 
conduct of this kind has too much the appearance of an intention 
to mislead the people by alarming their passions, rather than to 
convince them by arguments addressed to their understandings. 

But however little this objection may be countenanced, even 
by precedents among ourselves, it may be satisfactory to take a 
nearer view of its intrinsic merits. From a close examination it 
will appear that restraints upon the discretion of the legislature 
in respect to miUtary establishments in time of peace, would be 
improper to be imposed, and if imposed, from the necessities of 
society, would be unlikely to be observed. 

Though a wide ocean separates the United States from Europe, 
yet there are various considerations that warn us against an 
excess of confidence or security. On one side of us, and stretch- 
ing far into our rear, are growing settlements subject to the do- 
minion of Britain. On the other side, and extending to meet the 
British settlements, are colonies and establishments subject to the 
dominion of Spain. This situation and the vicinity of the West 
India Islands, belonging to these two powers, create between 
them, in respect to their American possessions and in relation to 
us, a common interest. The savage tribes on our Western fron- 
tier ought to be regarded as our natural enemies, their natural 
allies, because they have most to fear from us, and most to hope 
from them. The improvements in the art of navigation have, as 
to the facility of communication, rendered distant nations, in a 
great measure, neighbors. Britain and Spain are among the 
principal maritime powers of Europe. A future concert of views 
between these nations ought not to be regarded as improbable. 
The increasing remoteness of consanguinity is every day diminish- 
ing the force of the family compact between France and Spain. 
And politicians have ever with great reason considered the ties 



368 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

of blood as feeble and precarious links of political connection. 
These circumstances combined, admonish us not to be too san- 
guine in considering ourselves as entirely out of the reach of 
danger. 

Previous to the Revolution, and ever since the peace, there 
has been a constant necessity for keeping small garrisons on our 
Western frontier. No person can doubt that these will continue 
to be indispensable, if it should only be against the ravages and 
depredations of the Indians. These garrisons must either be 
furnished by occasional detachments from the militia, or by per- 
manent corps in the pay of the government. The first is im- 
practicable; and if practicable, would be pernicious. The mili- 
tia would not long, if at all, submit to be dragged from their occu- 
pations and families to perform that most disagreeable duty in 
times of profound peace. And if they could be prevailed upon or 
compelled to do it, the increased expense of a frequent rotation of 
service, and the loss of labor and disconcertion of the industrious 
pursuits of individuals, would form conclusive objections to the 
scheme. It would be as burdensome and injurious to the public 
as ruinous to private citizens. The latter resource of permanent 
corps in the pay of the government amounts to a standing army 
in time of peace ; a small one, indeed, but not the less real for being 
small. Here is a simple view of the subject, that shows us at 
once the impropriety of a constitutional interdiction of such estab- 
lishments, and the necessity of leaving the matter to the discretion 
and prudence of the legislature. 

In proportion to our increase in strength, it is probable, nay, it 
may be said certain, that Britain and Spain would augment their 
military establishments in our neighborhood. If we should not 
be vidlling to be exposed, in a naked and defenceless condition, to 
their insults and encroachments, we should find it expedient to 
increase our frontier garrisons in some ratio to the force by which 
our Western settlements might be annoyed. There are, and will 
be, particular posts, the possession of which will include the com- 
mand of large districts of territory, and facilitate future invasions 
of the remainder. It may be added that some of those posts will 
be keys to the trade with the Indian nations. Can any man think 
it would be wise to leave such posts in a situation to be at any in- 



ALEXANDER HAMILTON 369 

stant seized by one or the other of two neighboring and formi- 
dable powers ? To act this part would be to desert all the usual 
maxims of prudence and poHcy. 

If we mean to be a commercial people, or even to be secure on 
our Atlantic side, we must endeavor, as soon as possible, to have 
a navy. To this purpose there must be dock -yards and arsenals; 
and for the defence of these, fortifications and probably garri- 
sons. When a nation has become so powerful by sea that it can 
protect its dock-yards by its fleets, this supersedes the necessity 
of garrisons for that purpose; but where naval establishments 
are in their infancy, moderate garrisons will, in all likeUhood, be 
found an indispensable security against descents for the destruc- 
tion of the arsenals and dock-yards, and sometimes of the fleet 
itself. PuBLius. 

THE IMPORTANCE OF MAINTAINING PUBLIC 
CREDIT 

[From a report to the House of Representatives, January 14, 1790] 

Every breach of the public engagements, whether from choice 
or necessity, is, in different degrees, hurtful to public credit. 
When such a necessity does truly exist, the evils of it are only to 
be paUiated by a scrupulous attention, on the part of the Govern- 
ment, to carry the violation no further than the necessity abso- 
lutely requires, and to manifest, if the nature of the case admit of 
it, a sincere disposition to make reparation whenever circum- 
stances shall permit. But, with every possible mitigation, credit 
must suffer, and numerous mischiefs ensue. It is, therefore, 
highly important, when an appearance of necessity seems to press 
upon the public councils, that they should examine well its real- 
ity, and be perfectly assured that there is no method of escaping 
from it, before they yield to its suggestions. For, though it can- 
not safely be affirmed that occasions have never existed, or may 
not exist, in which violations of the pubhc faith, in this respect, are 
inevitable; yet there is great reason to believe that they exist far 
less frequently than precedents indicate, and are oftenest either 
pretended, through levity or want of firmness; or supposed, 
through want of knowledge. Expedients often have been devised 



370 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

to effect, consistently with good faith, what has been done in 
contravention of it. Those who are most commonly creditors of 
a nation are, generally speaking, enlightened men; and there are 
signal examples to warrant a conclusion that, when a candid and 
fair appeal is made to them, they will understand their true inter- 
est too well to refuse their concurrence in such modifications of 
their claims as any real necessity may demand. 

While the observance of that good faith, which is the basis of 
public credit, is recommended by the strongest inducements of 
political expediency, it is enforced by considerations of still greater ^ 
authority. There are arguments for it which rest on the immu- 
table principles of moral obHgation. And in proportion as the] 
mind is disposed to contemplate, in the order of Providence, an 
intimate connection between public virtue and public happiness, 
will be its repugnancy to a violation of those principles. 

This reflection derives additional strength from the nature of 
the debt of the United States. It was the price of liberty. The 
faith of America has been repeatedly pledged for it, and with 
solemnities that give peculiar force to the obligation. There is, 
indeed, reason to regret that it has not hitherto been kept; that 
the necessities of the war, conspiring with inexperience in the 
subjects of finance, produced direct infractions ; and that the sub- 
sequent period has been a continued scene of negative violation 
or non-compliance. But a diminution of this regret arises from 
the reflection, that the last seven years have exhibited an earnest 
and uniform effort, on the part of the Government of the Union, 
to retrieve the national credit, by doing justice to the creditors 
of the nation ; and that the embarrassments of a defective Consti- 
tution, which defeated this laudable effort, have ceased. 

From this evidence of a favorable disposition given by the former 
Government, the institution of a new one, clothed with powers com- 
petent to calling forth the resources of the community, has excited 
correspondent expectations. A general belief accordingly prevails, 
that the credit of the United States will quickly be established on 
the firm foundation of an effectual provision for the existing debt. 
The influence which this has had at home is witnessed by the 
rapid increase that has taken place in the market value of the 
public securities. From January to November, they rose thirty- 



ALEXANDER HAMILTON 37 1 

three and a third per cent. ; and, from that period to this time, 
they have risen fifty per cent, more; and the intelligence from 
abroad announces effects proportionally favorable to our national 
credit and consequence. 

It cannot but merit particular attention, that, among ourselves, 
the most enlightened friends of good government are those whose 
expectations are the highest. 

To justify and preserve their confidence; to promote the in- 
creasing respectability of the American name ; to answer the calls 
of justice ; to restore landed property to its due value ; to furnish 
new resources, both to agriculture and commerce; to cement 
more closely the union of the States; to add to their security 
against foreign attack; to establish public order on the basis of 
an upright and liberal policy; — these are the great and invalu- 
able ends to be secured by a proper and adequate provision, at the 
present period, for the support of public credit. 



FRANCIS HOPKINSON 

[Francis Hopkinson (1737-1791) illustrates literary tendencies that were 
naturally rare in the colonial time, and to the student of literary develop- 
ment his writings have an interest disproportionate to their intrinsic merits. 
He was born in Philadelphia, and after taking a course at the College of 
Philadelphia, studied law, served for a year as librarian of the Philadelphia 
library, and spent a year in England. He held many public offices in Penn- 
sylvania and New Jersey, among them member of the Continental Congress, 
judge of the admiralty, and United States district judge. Though able and 
active in his profession and in the discharge of his public duties, he had wide 
interests and many accomplishments. He was a member of scientific and 
learned societies, a musician and a composer, and an amateur painter. His 
versatility is shown in the three volumes of miscellaneous writings in prose 
and verse which he prepared for publication, and which were issued shortly 
after his death. These include opinions rendered as judge of the admiralty; 
essays after the Addisonian model; orations on a variety of subjects; satires 
and burlesques on political topics, on college examinations, on literary fash- 
ions, and many other things; scientific papers; and songs written to be set 
to music by the author. In prose he was perhaps best as a genial humorist. 
Two of his best-known prose productions are "A Pretty Story" and "The 
New Roof," political allegories in which he represents respectively the troubles 
between Great Britain and the colonies, and the proposed federal constitu- 
tion. His most famous political effort in verse is "The Battle of the Kegs," 
one of the most popular ballads of the Revolution. Fashions in humor 
change, and allegory has gone out of favor. To-day "A Pretty Story" may 
seem less effective than a simple narrative of historical fact, and "The 
Battle of the Kegs" may appear rather flat; but both appealed to readers 
of the Revolutionary time. The wit of some of the non-political satires and 
burlesques may seem fresher, though the subjects of these pieces are mostly 
of little present interest. 

Francis Hopkinson's works are significant as showing that the middle 
colonies had reached a stage of development where a distinguished lawyer 
and public man, a signer of the Declaration and a United States judge, 
could throw off such trifles for his amusement without feeling that they were 
a waste of time or beneath his dignity. Both Franklin and Byrd sometimes 
wrote for the pleasure of writing; but Hopkinson is more spontaneous, if 
less excellent; he relaxes more, and more naturally. The very amateurish- 
ness which makes his style inferior to that of either Franklin or Byrd is a 
sign of the qualities that make him important. 

The selections are from the edition before referred to, which was printed 
in 1792 from manuscripts prepared for the press by the author.] 

372 



FRANCIS HOPKINSON 373 

CONTEMPORARY HISTORY IN ALLEGORY 

[From "A Pretty Story" '] 

Chap, v 

In the mean time the new settlers encreased exceedingly, their 
dealings at their father's shop became proportionably enlarged, 
and their partiality for their brethren of the old farm was sin- 
cere and manifest. They suffered, indeed, some inconveniences 
from the protectors which had been stationed amongst them, who 
became very troublesome in their houses. They introduced riot 
and intemperance into their families, debauched their daughters, 
and derided the orders they had made for their own good gov- 
ernment. Moreover, the old nobleman had, at different times, sent 
over to them a great number of thieves, murderers, and robbers, 
who did much mischief by practising those crimes for which they 
had been banished from the old farm. But they bore those evils 
with as much patience as could be expected; not chusing to 
trouble their old father with complaints, unless in cases of im- 
portant necessity. 

Now the steward began to hate the new settlers vnth exceeding 
great hatred, and determined to renew his attack upon their peace 
and happiness. He artfully insinuated to the nobleman and his 
fooUsh wife, that it was very mean, and unbecoming their great- 
ness, to receive the contributions of the people of the new farm 
through the consent of their respective wives: that upon this 
footing they might some time or other refuse to comply with his 
requisitions, if they should take into their heads to think them 
oppressive and unreasonable ; and that it was high time they should 
be compelled to acknowledge his unlimited power and his wife's 
omnipotence, which, if not enforced now, they would soon be able 
to resist, as they were daily encreasing in numbers and strength. 

Another decree was, therefore, prepared and published, direct- 
ing that the people of the new farm should pay a certain stipend 

pin this elaborate political allegory, originally published in 1774, the "old 
farm" represents England, and the "new farm" America. The "old nobleman" 
is the king, his "wife" is the parliament, and his "steward" is the ministry. His 
"sons," the "new settlers," are of course the colonists, and their "wives" are the 
legislatures of the respective colonies.] 



374 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

upon particular goods/ which they were not allowed to purchase 
any where but at their father's shop ; specifying that this imposi- 
tion should not be laid as an advance upon the original price of 
these goods, but should be paid as a tax on their arrival in the 
new farm; for the express purpose of supporting the dignity of 
the nobleman's family, and for re-imbursing the expences he 
pretended to have been at on their account. 

This new decree occasioned great uneasiness. The people saw 
plainly that the steward and their mother-in-law were determined 
to enslave and ruin them. They again consulted together, and 
wrote, as before, the most dutiful and persuasive letters to their 
father — but to no purpose — a deaf ear was turned against all 
their remonstrances, and their humble requests rejected with 
contempt. 

Finding that this moderate and decent conduct brought them 
no relief, they had recourse to another expedient: they bound 
themselves to each other in a solemn engagement,^ not to deal 
any more at their father's shop, until this unconstitutional decree 
should be repealed, which they one and all declared to be a direct 
violation of the Great Paper. 

This agreement was so strictly observed, that in a few months 
the clerks and apprentices in the old gentleman's shop began to 
raise a terrible outcry. They declared, that their master's trade 
was decUning exceedingly, and that his wife and steward would 
by their mischievous machinations ruin the whole farm. They 
sharpened their pens, and attacked the steward, and even the old 
lady herself, with great severity: insomuch, that it was thought 
proper to withdraw this attempt also, upon the rights and liberties 
of the new settlers. One part only of the decree was left still in 
force, viz. the tax upon water-gruel.^ 

Now there were certain men * in the old farm, who had obtained 
an exclusive right of selling water-gruel. Vast quantities of this 
gruel were vended amongst the new settlers, as they were ex- 
tremely fond of it, and used it universally in their families. They 
did not, however, trouble themselves much about the tax on 
water-gruel; they were well pleased with the repeal of the 

* Painter's colours, glass, &c. * Non-importation agreement. 

* Tea. * The India company. 



FRANCIS HOPKINSON 375 

other parts of the decree, and fond as they were of this gruel, 
they considered it as not absolutely necessary to the comfort of 
life, and determined to give up the use of it in their families, 
and so avoid the effects of that part of the decree. 

The steward found his designs again frustrated: but was not 
discouraged by the disappointment. He devised another scheme, 
so artfully contrived, that he thought himself sure of success. 
He sent for the persons who had the sole right of vending water- 
gruel; and after reminding them of the obligations they were under 
to the nobleman and his wife for the exclusive privilege they en- 
joyed, he requested that they would send sundry waggons laden 
with gruel to the new farm; promising that the accustomed duty 
which they paid for their exclusive right should be taken off from 
all the gruel they should so send amongst the new settlers; and 
that in case their cargoes should come to any damage, the loss 
should be made good to them out of his master's coffers. 

The gruel-merchants readily consented to this proposal; con- 
sidering that if their cargoes were sold, their profits would be 
very great; and if they failed, the steward was to pay the damage. 
On the other hand, the steward hoped that the new settlers would 
not be able to resist a temptation, thus thrown in their way, of 
purchasing their favourite gruel, to which they had been so long 
accustomed; and if they did use it, subject to the tax aforesaid, 
he would consider this as a voluntary acknowledgment that the 
nobleman and his wife had a right to lay upon them what imposi- 
tions they pleased, and as a resignation of the privileges of the 
Great Paper. 

But the new settlers were well aware of this decoy. They saw 
plainly that the gruel was not sent for their accommodation; and 
that if they suffered any part of it to be sold amongst them, sub- 
ject to the tax imposed by the new decree, it would be considered 
as a willing submission to the assumed omnipotence of their mother- 
in-law, and a precedent for future unHmited impositions. Some, 
therefore, would not permit the waggons to be unladen at all; 
but sent them back untouched to the gruel-merchants ; and others 
suffered them to unload, but would not touch the dangerous com- 
modity; so that it lay neglected about the roads and high-ways 
till it was quite spoiled. But one of the new settlers, whose name 



376 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

was Jack, either from a keener sense of the injuries intended, or 
from the necessity of his situation, which was such that he could 
not send back the gruel, because of a number of mercenaries ^ 
whom his father had stationed in his house to be a watch over 
him — he, I say, being almost driven to despair, stove ^ to pieces 
the casks of gruel which had been sent him, and utterly destroyed 
the whole cargo. 

Chap, vi 

These violent proceedings were soon known at the old farm. 
Great was the uproar there. The old nobleman fell into a furious 
passion, declaring that the new settlers meant to throw off all 
dependence upon him, and rebel against his authority. His wife 
also tore the padlocks from her lips, and raved and stormed like 
a Billingsgate, and the steward lost all patience and moderation 
— swearing most profanely, that he would leave no stone unturned 
till he had humbled the settlers of the new farm at his feet, and 
caused their father to tread upon their necks. Moreover, the gruel- 
merchants roared and bellowed for the loss of their gruel ; and the 
clerks and apprentices were in the utmost consternation lest the 
people of the new farm should again agree to have no deaUngs 
with their father's shop. 

Vengeance was forthwith prepared, especially against Jack. 
With him they determined to begin; hoping that by making a 
severe example of him, they should so terrify the other families, 
that they would all submit to the power of the steward and ac- 
knowledge the omnipotence of the great Madam. 

A very large padlock^ was sent over to be fastened on Jack's 
great gate; the key of which was given to the old nobleman, who 
was not to suffer it to be opened until Jack had paid for the gruel 
he had spilt, and resigned all claim to the privileges of the Great 
Paper — nor even then, unless he should think fit. Secondly, 
a decree was made to new model the regulations and oeconomy 
of Jack's family, in such manner that they might in future be more 
subjected to the will of the steward. And, thirdly, A large gallows 
was erected before the mansion-house in the old farm, that if any 

* Board of Commissioners. ^ Destruction of the tea at Boston. 

» The Boston Port-biU. 



FRANCIS HOP KIN SON 377 

of Jack's children should be suspected of misbehaviour, they 
should not be convicted or acquitted by the voice of their brethren, 
according to the purport of the Great Paper, but be tied neck and 
heels, and sent over to be hanged on this gallows. 

On hearing of these severities, the people were highly enraged. 
They were at a loss how to act, or by what means they should 
avoid the threatened vengeance. But the old lady and the steward 
persisted. The great padlock was fastened on Jack's gate, and the 
key given to the nobleman as had been determined on; without 
waiting to know whether Jack would pay for the gruel, or allow- 
ing him an opportunity to make any apology or defence. 

Poor Jack was now in a deplorable condition indeed: The 
great inlet to his farm was entirely shut up ; so that he could neither 
carry out the produce of his land for sale, nor receive from abroad 
the necessaries for his family. 

But this was not all — The old nobleman, along with the pad- 
lock aforesaid, had sent an overseer ^ to hector and domineer over 
Jack and his family, and to endeavour to break his spirits by 
every possible severity; for which purpose, this overseer was 
attended by a great number of mercenaries, and armed with more 
than common authorities. 

When the overseer first arrived in Jack^s family, he was re- 
ceived with great respect, because he was the delegate of their 
aged father. For, notwithstanding all that had past, the people 
of the new farm loved and revered the old nobleman with true 
filial affection: and attributed his unldndness entirely to the in- 
trigues of the steward. 

But this fair weather did not last long. The new overseer 
took the first opportunity to show that he had no intention of 
living in harmony and friendship with the family — Some of 
Jack's domestics had put on their Sunday clothes, and waited on 
the overseer in the great parlour, to pay him their compliments 
on his arrival ; ^ and to request his assistance in reconciling their 
father to them, and restoring peace and cordiality between the 
old and new farms. But he, in a most abrupt and rude manner, 
stopped them short in the midst of their address; called them a 

* General Gage, made Governor of the province, 

* Address to General Gage. 



378 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

parcel of disobedient scoundrels ; bid them go about their busi- 
ness ; and turning round on his heel, left the room with an air of 
contempt and disdain. 

Chap, vn 

The people of the new farm seeing the importance of their 
situation, had appointed a grand committee, consisting of some 
of the most respectable characters from each family, to manage 
their affairs in this difficult crisis. Jack, thus oppressed and 
insulted, requested the advice ^ of the grand committee as to his 
conduct. This committee in their answer, sympathized cordially 
with him in his afflictions — they exhorted him to bear his suffer- 
ing with fortitude for a time; assuring him, that they looked upon 
the insults and punishments inflicted on him with the same in- 
dignation as if they had been inflicted on themselves ; and promised 
to stand by and support him to the last — They recommended it 
to him to be firm and steady in the cause of liberty and their just 
rights, and never to acknowledge the omnipotence of their mother- 
in-law, nor submit to the machinations of their enemy the steward. 

In the mean time, lest Jack's family should suffer for want of 
necessaries, his great gate being fast locked, contributions were 
raised for his relief amongst the other families,^ and handed to him 
over the garden wall. 

Tl\e new overseer still persisted in his hostile behaviour, taking 
every opportunity to mortify and insult Jack and his family — 
observing that some of the children and domestics held frequent 
meetings and consultations together, sometimes in the garret, 
and sometimes in the stable, and understanding that an agree- 
ment not to deal with their father's shop, until their grievances 
should be redressed, was again talked of, he wrote a thundering 
prohibition,^ much like a pope's bull, which he caused to be pasted 
up in every room of the house — In which he declared and pro- 
tested, that such meetings were treasonable, traitorous, and re- 
bellious, contrary to the dignity of his master, the nobleman, and 
inconsistent with the duty they owed to his omnipotent wife: 

' Boston consults the congress of the states. 

* Money raised by the states for the relief of the poor of Boston. 

* Proclamation at Boston forbidding town meetings. 



FRANCIS HOPKINSON 



379 



and threatened that if two of the family should be found whisper- 
ing together, they should be sent over in chains to the old farm, 
and hanged upon the great gallows before the mansion-house. 

These harsh and unconstitutional proceedings of the overseer, 
so highly irritated Jack, and the other families of the new farm, 
that ****** 

Cetera desunt. 

THE BATTLE OF THE KEGS 

Gallants attend and hear a friend 

Trill forth harmonious ditty. 
Strange things I'll tell which late befel 

In Philadelphia city. 

'Twas early day, as poets say. 

Just when the sun was rising, 
A soldier stood on a log of wood, 

And saw a thing surprising. 

As in amaze he stood to gaze, 

The truth can't be denied, sir, 
He spied a score of kegs or more 

Come floating down the tide, sir. 

A sailor too in jerkin blue, 

This strange appearance viewing, 
First damn'd his eyes, in great surprise, 

Then said some mischief's brewing. 

These kegs, I'm told, the rebels bold, 

Pack'd up like pickling herring; 
And they're come down t'attack the town, 

In this new way of ferrying. 

The soldier flew, the sailor too, 

And scar'd almost to death, sir, 
Wore out their shoes, to spread the news, 

And ran till out of breath, sir. 



380 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

Now up and down throughout the town, 
Most frantic scenes were acted; 

And some ran here, and others there, 
Like men almost distracted. 

Some fire cry'd, which some denied, 
But said the earth had quaked; 

And girls and boys, with hideous noise, 
Ran through the streets half naked. 

Sir William he, snug as a flea, 
Lay all this time a snoring. 

Nor dreamed of harm as he lay warm, 
* * * * * 

Now in a fright, he starts upright, 
Awak'd by such a clatter; 

He rubs both eyes, and boldly cries, 
For God's sake, what's the matter? 

At his bed-side he then espy'd, 
Sir Erskine at command, sir, 
■ Upon one foot, he had one boot, 
And th' other in his hand, sir. 

"Arise, arise, sir Erskine cries, 
"The rebels — more's the pity, 

"Without a boat are all afloat, 
"And rang'd before the city. 

"The motley crew, in vessels new, 
" With Satan for their guide, sir. 

"Pack'd up in bags, or wooden kegs, 
"Come driving down the tide, sir. 

"Therefore prepare for bloody war, 
"These kegs must all be routed^ 



FRANCIS HOP KIN SON 3S1 

"Or surely we despised shall be, 
"And British courage doubted." 

The royal band, now ready stand 

All rang'd in dread array, sir, 
With stomach stout to see it out, 

And make a bloody day, sir. 

The cannons roar from shore to shore, 

The small arms make a rattle; 
Since wars began I'm sure no man 

E'er saw so strange a battle. 

The rebel dales, the rebel vales, 

With rebel trees surrounded; 
The distant wood, the hills and floods, 

With rebel echoes sounded. 

The fish below swam to and fro, 

Attack'd from ev'ry quarter; 
Why sure, thought they, the devil's to pay, 

'Mongst folks above the water. 

The kegs, 'tis said, tho' strongly made, 

Of rebel staves and hoops, sir. 
Could not oppose their powerful foes, 

The conqu'ring British troops, sir. 

From morn to night these men of might 

Display 'd amazing courage; 
And when the sun was fairly down, 

Retir'd to sup their porrage. 

An hundred men with each a pen. 

Or more upon my word, sir. 
It is most true would be too few, 

Their valour to record, sir. 



382 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

Such feats did they perform that day, 

Against these wick'd kegs, sir, 
That years to come, if they get home. 

They'll make their boasts and brags, sir. 

N.B. This ballad was occasioned by a real incident. Certain 
machines, in the form of kegs, charg'd with gun powder, were sent down 
the river to annoy the British shipping then at Philadelphia. The danger 
of these machines being discovered, the British manned the wharfs and 
shipping, and discharged their small arms and cannons at every thing they 
saw floating in the river during the ebb tide. 



AN EPITAPH FOR AN INFANT 

Sleep on, sweet babe ! no dreams annoy thy rest, 
Thy spirit flew unsullied from thy breast: 
Sleep on, sweet innocent ! nor shalt thou dread 
The passing storm that thunders o'er thy head: 
Thro' the bright regions of yon azure sky, 
A winged seraph, now she soars on high; 
Or, on the bosom of a cloud reclin'd. 
She rides triumphant on the rapid wind; 
Or from its source pursues the radiant day; 
Or on a sun-beam, smoothly glides away; 
Or mounts aerial, to her blest abode, 
And sings, inspir'd, the praises of her God: 
Unveiled, thence, to her extensive eye, 
Nature, and Nature's Laws, expanded lie: 
Death, in one moment, taught this infant more 
Than years or ages ever taught before. 



SONG VI 

O'er the hills far away, at the birth of the mom 
I hear the full tone of the sweet sounding horn; 
The sportsmen with shoutings all hail the new day 
And swift run the hounds o'er the hills far away. 



' FRANCIS HOPKINSON 383 

Across the deep valley their course they pursue 
And rush thro' the thickets yet silver'd with dew; 
Nor hedges nor ditches their speed can delay — 
Still sounds the sweet horn o'er hills far away. 

SONG VII 



My gen'rous heart disdains 
The slave of love to be, 
I scorn his servile chains, 
And boast my liberty. 
This whining 
And pining 
And wasting with care, 
Are not to my taste, be she ever so fair. 

n 

Shall a girl's capricious frown 
Sink my noble spirits down? 
Shall a face of white and red 
Make me droop my silly head? 
Shall I set me down and sigh 
For an eye-brow or an eye? 
For a braided lock of hair, 
Curse my fortune and despair? 

My gen'rous heart disdains, &c. 

m 

Still uncertain is tomorrow. 
Not quite certain is today — 
Shall I waste my time in sorrow? 
Shall I languish life away? 
All because a cruel maid. 
Hath not Love with Love repaid. 
My gen'rous heart disdains, Sac, 



MERCY OTIS WARREN 

[Mercy Otis Warren (1728-1814) was one of the most interesting literary 
women of the Revolutionary time. She was the sister of James Otis and 
the wife of James Warren, and had an intimate acquaintance with many dis- 
tinguished patriot families besides the two with which she was thus con- 
nected. She carried on an extensive correspondence with notable men and 
women, and seems to have been consulted, or at least taken into confidence, 
in many councils regarding political matters. The greater part of her writ- 
ings are political or have an indirect political bearing. Among her earliest 
attempts were two satires in dramatic form, "The Adulator" and "The 
Group." In both these the characters were recognizable as caricatures of 
contemporaries. Later, she wrote two formal tragedies in blank verse, 
"The Sack of Rome " and "The Ladies of Castile." These have no direct 
reference to contemporary events, but both expound the idea of political 
liberty. These two plays and a few other poems, some of them occasional, 
make up a volume of "Poems, Dramatic and Miscellaneous," published in 
1790. In 1805 she published her "History of the Rise, Progress and Ter- 
mination of the American Revolution, interspersed with Biographical, 
Political and Moral Observations." The author's wide acquaintance with 
political leaders had given her a first-hand knowledge of many facts, and the 
definiteness of her beliefs and prejudices makes her "observations" interest- 
ing if not always profitable. 

Mrs. Warren had a tendency to satirize, with the kind of satire that is 
unrelieved by humor. She was especially famous for her pen pictures of 
persons that she had known, and she is most interesting when depicting those 
of whom she does not approve. Some strictures on John Adams near the 
close of her "History" led to a temporary suspension of friendly relations 
with that statesman, and to the exchange of some very pointed letters, which 
have been printed in the Collections of the Massachusetts Historical So- 
ciety. In both prose and verse Mrs. Warren affected a formal and artificial 
style. This can be seen in her personal correspondence as well as her writ- 
ings intended for publication. She signed herself "Philomela" in letters 
which she addressed to her friend Mrs. Winthrop as "Narcissa," and to her 
friend Mrs. Adams as "Portia." Even her letters to her children contain 
artificial poetic talk about "Strephon and Collin," etc. This sort of absurd- 
ity was a literary disease prevailing at the time, and while Mrs. Warren was 
by nature subject to it, and her works may be studied for a knowledge of 
the symptoms, the importance of her affectation must not be overrated. 

The selections follow the first editions of "The Group," the "Poems, 
Dramatic and Miscellaneous," and the "History," published in Boston in 
1775, 1790, and 1805, respectively.] 

384 



MERCY OTIS WARREN 385 

A LOYALIST DIALOGUE 

[From "The Group," Act II, Scene III »] 

Simple Sappling. Though my paternal Acres are eat up, 
My patrimony spent, I've yet an house 
My lenient creditors let me improve, 

Send up the Troops, 'twill serve them well for Barracks. 
I some how think 'twould bear a noble sound. 
To have my mansion guarded by the King. 

Sylla. Hast thou no sons or blooming daughters there, 
To call up all the feelings of a Father, 
Least their young minds contaminate by vice, 
Caught from such inmates, dangerous and vile, 
Devoid of virtue, rectitude, or honour 
Save what accords with military fame? 

Hast thou no wife who asks thy tender care, 
To guard her from Belona's hardy sons? 
Who when not toiling in the hostile field 
Are faithful vot'ries to the Cyprian Queen. 
Or is her soul of such materials made, 
Indelicate, and thoughtless of her fame: 
So void of either sentiment or sense. 
As makes her a companion fit for thee ! 

Simple Sappling. Silvia's good natur'd, and no doubt will yield, 
And take the brawny vet'rans to her board, 
When she's assur'd 'twill help her husband's fame. 

If she complains or murmurs at the plan. 
Let her solicit charity abroad; 
Let her go out and seek some pitying friend 

[' The characters in this satiric drama represent well-known British sympa- 
thizers. "Sylla" is General Gage; "Brigadier Hateall" is said to be Timothy 
Ruggles; "Simple Sappling," Nathaniel Ray Thomas; "CoUateralis, a new made 
judge," Brown. The stage direction for this scene reads: "The fragments of 
the broken Council appear with trembling servile Gestures, shewing several appli- 
cations to the General from the Under-Tools in the distant Counties, begging each a 
guard of myrmidons to protect them from the armed mu/titudes (which the guilty 
horrors of their wounded consciences hourly presented to their frightened imagina- 
tions) approaching to take speedy vengeance on the Court Parasites, who had fled 
for refuge to the Camp, by immediate destruction to their Pimps, Panders and 
Sycophants left behind."] 



386 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

To give her shelter from the wint'ry blast, 
Disperse her children round the neighb'ring cots, 
And then 

Publican. — — Then weep thy folly and her own hard fate ! 
I pity Silvia, I knew the beauteous maid 
E'er she descended to become thy wife: 
She silent mourns the weakness of her lord, 
For she's too virtuous to approve thy deeds. 

Hateall. Pho — — what's a woman's tears, 
Or all the whinings of that trifling sex? 
I never felt one tender thought towards them. 

When young, indeed, I wedded nut brown Kate, 
(Blyth bosom Dowager, the jockey's prey) 
But all I wish'd was to secure her dower. 
I broke her spirits when I'd won her purse; 
For which I'll give a recipe most sure 
To ev'ry hen peck'd husband round the board; 
If crabbed words or surly looks won't tame 
The haughty strew [shrew?] nor bend the stubborn mind. 
Then the green Hick'ry, or the willow twig. 
Will prove a curse for each rebellious dame 
Who dare oppose her lord's superior will. 

Sylla. Enough of this, ten thousand harrowing cares 
Tear up my peace, and swell my anxious breast. 

I see some mighty victim must appease 
An injured nation, tott'ring on the verge 
Of wide destruction, made the wanton sport 
Of hungry Harpies, gaping for their prey; 
Which if by misadventures they should miss, 
The disappointed vultures angry fang. 
Will sieze the lesser gudgeons of the state, 
And sacrifice to mad Alecto's rage; 
Lest the tide turning, with a rapid course 
The booming torrent rushes o'er their heads. 
And sweeps the "cawing cormorants from earth." 

Hateall. Then strike some sudden blow, and if hereafter 

Dangers should rise then set up for thyself. 

And make thy name as famous in Columbia, 



MERCY OTIS WARREN 387 

As ever Caesar's was in ancient Gaul. 
Who would such distant Provinces subdue, 
And then resign them to a foreign lord ! 
With such an armament at thy command 
Why all this cautious prudence? 

Sylla. I only wish to serve my Sov'reign well, 
And bring new glory to my master's crown. 
Which can't be done by spreading ruin round 

This loyal country 

Wro't up to madness by oppression's hand. 

How much deceiv'd my royal master is 

By those he trusts ! — but more of this anon. 

Were it consistent with my former plan, 
I'd gladly send my sickly troops abroad 
Out from the stench of this infected town, 
To breath some air more free from putrefaction; 
To brace their nerves against approaching spring. 
If my ill stars should destine a campaign, 
And call me forth to fight in such a cause. 

To quench the gen'rous spark, the innate love 
Of glorious freedom, planted in the breast 
Of ev'ry man who boasts a Briton's name, 
Until some base born lust of foreign growth 
Contaminate his soul, till false ambition. 
Or the sordid hope of swelling cofifers. 
Poison the mind, and brutalize the man. 

Collateralis. I almost wish I never had engag'd 
To rob my country of her native rights, 
Nor strove to mount on justice solemn bench. 
By mean submission cringing for a place. 

How great the pain, and yet how small the purchase! 
Had I been dumb, or my right hand cut off, 
E'er I so servilely had held it up. 
Or giv'n my voice abjectly to rescind 
The wisest step that mortal man could take 
To curb the tallons of tyrannic power. 
Out stretch'd rapacious ready to devour 
The fair possessions, by our Maker giv'n 



388 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

Confirm'd by compacts — ratify'd by Heav'n. 

Sylla. Look o'er the annals of our virtuous sires. 
And search the story of Britannia's deeds, 
From Caesar's ravages to Hambden's fall; 
From the good Hambden down to glorious Wolfe, 
Whose soul took wing on Abrahams fatal plain. 
Where the young Flero fought Britannia's foes. 
And vanquish'd Bourbons dark ferocious hosts, 
Till the slaves trembled at a George's name. 

'Twas love of freedom drew a Marlborough's sword; 
This glorious passion mov'd a Sydney's pen; 
And crown'd with Bayes a Harrington and Locke; 
'Tis freedom wreathes the Garlands o'er their tombs. 

For her how oft have bleeding Heroes fall'n ! 
With the warm fluid, gushing from their wounds, 
Convey'd the purchase to their distant heirs ! 

And shall I rashly draw my guilty sword, 
And dip its hungry hilt in the rich blood 
Of the best subjects that a Brunswick boasts, 
And for no cause, but that they nobly scorn 
To wear the fetters of his venal slaves ! 

But swift time rolls, and on his rapid wheel 
Bears the winged hours, and the circling years. 

The cloud cap'd morn, the dark short wintry day, 
And the keen blasts of roughned Borea's breath. 
Will soon evanish, and approaching spring 
Opes with the fate of empires on her wing. Exit Sylla. 

THE NECESSARIES OF LIFE 

[From a poem "To the Hon. J. Winthrop, Esq. Who, on the American 

Determination, in 1774, to suspend all Commerce with Britain, (except 

for the real Necessaries of life) requested a poetical List of the Articles 

the Ladies might comprise under that Head " ] 

But if ye doubt, an inventory clear. 
Of all she needs, Lamira ofifers here; 
Nor does she fear a rigid Cato's frown, 
When she lays by the rich embroider'd gown, 



MERCY OTIS WARREN 389 

And modestly compounds for just enough — 

Perhaps, some dozens of more slighty stuff; 

With lawns and lustrings — blond, and mecklin laces, 

Fringes and jewels, fans and tweezer cases; 

Gay cloaks and hats, of every shape and size, 

Scarfs, cardinals, and ribbons of all dyes; 

With ruffles stamp'd, and aprons of tambour, 

Tippets and handkerchiefs, at least, three score; 

With finest musHns that fair India boasts, 

And the choice herbage from Chinesan coasts; 

(But while the fragrant hyson leaf regales, 

Who'll wear the homespun produce of the vales? 

For if 'twould save the nation from the curse 

Of standing troops; or, name a plague still worse, 

Few can this choice delicious draught give up. 

Though all Medea's poisons fill the cup.) 

Add feathers, furs, rich sattins, and ducapes, 

And head dresses in pyramidial shapes; 

Side boards of plate, and porcelain profuse, 

With fifty ditto's that the ladies use; 

If my poor treach'rous memory has miss'd, 

Ingenious T 1, shall complete the list. 

So weak Lamira, and her wants so few, 

Who shall refuse? — they're but the sex's due. 

THE BOSTON TEA PARTY 

[From the "History of the Rise, Progress and Termination of the American 

Revolution "] 

The storage or detention of a few cargoes of teas is not an object 
in itself sufficient to justify a detail of several pages; but as the 
subsequent severities towards the Massachusetts were grounded 
on what the ministry termed their refractory behaviour on this oc- 
casion; and as those measures were followed by consequences of 
the highest magnitude both to Great Britain and the colonies, a 
particular narration of the transactions of the town of Boston is 
indispensable. There the sword of civil discord was first drawn, 
which was not re-sheathed until the emancipation of the thirteen 



390 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

colonies from the yoke of foreign domination was acknowledged 
by the diplomatic seals of the first powers in Europe. This may 
apologize, if necessary, for the appearance of locality in the pre- 
ceding pages, and for its farther continuance in regard to a colony, 
on which the bitterest cup of ministerial wrath was poured for a 
time, and where the energies of the human mind were earlier called 
forth, than in several of the sister states. 

Not intimidated by the frowns of greatness, nor allured by the 
smiles of intrigue, the vigilance of the people was equal to the im- 
portance of the event. Though expectation was equally awake 
in both parties, yet three or four weeks elapsed in a kind of inertia; 
the one side flattered themselves with hopes, that as the ships were 
suffered to be so long unmolested, with their cargoes entire, the 
point might yet be obtained; the other thought it possible, that 
some impression might yet be made on the governor, by the strong 
voice of the people. 

Amidst this suspense a rumour was circulated, that admiral 
Montague was about to seize the ships, and dispose of their cargoes 
at public auction, within twenty-four hours. This step would as 
effectually have secured the duties, as if sold at the shops of the 
consignees, and was judged to be only a finesse, to place them 
there on their own terms. On this report, convinced of the neces- 
sity of preventing so bold an attempt, a vast body of people con- 
vened suddenly and repaired to one of the largest and most com- 
modious churches in Boston; where, previous to any other steps, 
many fruitless messages were sent both to the governor and the 
consignees, whose timidity had prompted them to a seclusion from 
the public eye. Yet they continued to refuse any satisfactory 
answer; and while the assembled multitude were in quiet con- 
sultation on the safest mode to prevent the sale and consumption 
of an herb, noxious at least to the political constitution, the de- 
bates were interrupted by the entrance of the sheriff with an order 
from the governor, styling them an illegal assembly, and directing 
their immediate dispersion. 

This authoritative mandate was treated with great contempt, 
and the sheriff instantly hissed out of the house. A confused 
murmur ensued, both within and without the walls ; but in a few 
moments all was again quiet, and the leaders of the people returned 



MERCY OTIS WARREN 391 

calmly to the point in question. Yet every expedient seemed 
fraught with insurmountable difficulties, and evening approaching 
without any decided resolutions, the meeting was adjourned with- 
out day. 

Within an hour after this was known abroad, there appeared a 
great number of persons, clad like the aborigines of the wilderness, 
with tomahawks in their hands, and clubs on their shoulders, 
who without the least molestation marched through the streets 
with silent solemnity, and amidst innumerable spectators, pro- 
ceeded to the wharves, boarded the ships, demanded the keys, 
and with much deliberation knocked open the chests, and emptied 
several thousand weight of the finest teas into the ocean. No 
opposition was made, though surrounded by the king's ships; 
all was silence and dismay. 

This done, the procession returned through the town in the same 
order and solemnity as observed in the outset of their attempt. 
No other disorder took place, and it was observed, the stillest 
night ensued that Boston had enjoyed for many months. This 
unexpected event struck the ministerial party with rage and aston- 
ishment; while, as it seemed to be an attack upon private property, 
many who wished well to the public cause could not fully approve 
of the measure. Yet perhaps the laws of self-preservation might 
justify the deed, as the exigencies of the times required extraordi- 
nary exertions, and every other method had been tried in vain, 
to avoid this disagreeable alternative. Besides it was alleged, 
and doubtless it was true, the people were ready to make ample 
compensation for all damages sustained, whenever the uncon- 
stitutional duty should be taken off, and other grievances radically 
redressed. But there appeared little prospect that any concilia- 
tory advances would soon be made. The officers of government 
discovered themselves more vindictive than ever: animosities 
daily increased, and the spirits of the people were irritated to a 
degree of alienation, even from their tenderest connexions, when 
they happened to dififer in political opinion. 



392 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON 

[From the "History of the Rise, Progress and Termination of the American 

Revolution"] 

Mr. Washington was a gentleman of family and fortune, of a 
polite, but not a learned education; he appeared to possess a 
coolness of temper, and a degree of moderation and judgment, that 
qualified him for the elevated station in which he was now placed ; 
with some considerable knowledge of mankind, he supported the 
reserve of the statesman, with the occasional affability of the 
courtier. In his character was blended a certain dignity, united 
with the appearance of good humour; he possessed courage with- 
out rashness, patriotism and zeal without acrimony, and retained 
with universal applause the first mihtary command, until the 
establishment of independence. Through the various changes of 
fortune in the subsequent conflict, though the slowness of his 
movements was censured by some, his character suffered little 
diminution to the conclusion of a war, that from the extraordinary 
exigencies of an infant republic, required at times, the caution of 
Fabius, the energy of CcTesar, and the happy facility of expedient 
in distress, so remarkable in the military operations of the illus- 
trious Frederick.^ With the first of these qualities, he was en- 
dowed by nature; the second was awakened by necessity; and 
the third he acquired by experience in the field of glory and 
danger, which extended his fame through half the globe. 

In the late war between England and France, Mr. Washington 
had been in several military rencounters, and had particularly 
signalized himself in the unfortunate expedition under general 
Braddock, in the wilderness on the borders of the Ohio, in the year 
one thousand seven hundred and fifty-five. His conduct on that 
occasion raised an eclat of his valor and prudence ; in consequence 
of which many young gentlemen from all parts of the continent, 
allured by the name of major Washington, voluntarily entered the 
service, proud of being enrolled in the list of officers under one 
esteemed so gallant a commander. 

* The late king of Prussia, well known for this trait in his character, by all who 
are acquainted with the history of his reign. 



MERCY OTIS WARREN 393 

THE CHARACTER OF GENERAL LEE 

[From the "History of the Rise, Progress and Termination of the American 

Revolution"] 

No man was better qualified at this early stage of the war, to 
penetrate the designs, or to face in the field an experienced British 
veteran, than general Lee. He had been an ofiicer of character 
and rank in the late war between England and France.^ Fearless 
of danger, and fond of glory, he was calculated for the field, with- 
out any of the graces that recommend the soldier to the circles of 
the polite. He was plain in his person even to ugliness, and care- 
less in his manners to a degree of rudeness. He possessed a bold 
genius and an unconquerable spirit: his voice was rough, his garb 
ordinary, his deportment morose. A considerable traveller, and 
well acquainted with most of the European nations, he was fre- 
quently agreeable in narration, and judicious and entertaining in 
observation. Disgusted with the ministerial system, and more so 
with his sovereign who authorized it, he cherished the American 
cause from motives of resentment, and a predilection in favor 
of freedom, more than from a just sense of the rights of 
mankind. 

Without religion or country, principle, or attachment, gold was 
his deity, and hberty the idol of his fancy: he hoarded the former 
without taste for its enjoyment, and worshipped the latter as the 
patroness of licentiousness, rather than the protectress of virtue. 
He affected to despise the opinion of the world, yet was fond of 
applause. Ambitious of fame without the dignity to support it, 
he emulated the heroes of antiquity in the field, while in private 
life he sunk into the vulgarity of the clown. Congress did wisely 
to avail themselves of his military experience in the infancy of a 
confederated army, and still more wisely in placing him in a degree 
of subordination. He was on the first fist of continental officers, 
and only the generals Washington and Ward were named before 
him ; but though nominally the third in rank, as a soldier he was 
second to no man. The abilities of general Ward were better 

• He had served with reputation in Portugal, under the command of the count 
de la Lippe. 



394 



EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 



adapted to the more quiet disquisitions of the cabinet, that on 
[than to ?] the hostile and dangerous scenes of the field or the camp, 
both which he soon left and retired to private life, when nothing 
remained to prevent this singular stranger from taking the 
command of the armies of the United States, but the life of 
Washington. 



JOHN TRUMBULL 

[John Trumbull was perhaps the most representative of the so-called 
"Hartford Wits," a group of Connecticut men who were associated in liter- 
ary work during and just after the Revolution. Before the outbreak of serious 
political trouble the colonists had reached a point where many young men, 
in college and just out of college, were interesting themselves in what they 
called belles lettres, and attempting writings in prose and verse after the 
models of the most approved English authors. A little later these men, 
almost without exception, wrote on political subjects. John Trumbull may 
be taken as a type of this class. He was born in 1750, of a distinguished 
Connecticut family. He was remarkably precocious, and, according to 
a well-known story, passed with credit the examinations for admission to 
Yale College when but seven years old. Before he actually entered Yale, at 
the age of thirteen, he had read most of the classic authors studied in that 
institution, and accordingly had much time for subjects not in the regular 
curriculum. He was especially interested in English literature, and when 
later he became a tutor, he worked for the introduction of this study and 
English composition into the college course. In 1769, while still a student 
for the Master's degree, he was the chief author of "The Medler," a series 
of essays modelled on "The Spectator." This was followed by a similar 
series, "The Correspondent." About the same time he wrote verses plainly 
reminiscent of Milton, Pope, Goldsmith, and other English poets. In 1772, 
while a tutor at Yale, he published the first part of "The Progress of Dul- 
ness," a Hudibrastic satire in three cantos, in which he ridiculed the exist- 
ing methods of education, and argued for a college course devoted less ex- 
clusively to Latin and Greek. In 1773 he became a student in the law ofSce 
of John Adams at Boston, and naturally acquired an intense interest in 
political affairs. In 1774 he published an "Elegy on the Times," and in 
January, 1776,' the first part of "McFingal." 

"McFingal," Trumbull's most important work, and the most famous 
political satire of the Revolution, is a mock-heroic poem in the Hudibrastic 
metre. Most readers see chiefly the influence of Butler, though Professor 
Moses Coit Tyler considered that the author's model was the eighteenth- 
century satirist Churchill. The part of the poem which was published in 
1776, and which was an effective political document during the years of 
conflict, was later divided into two cantos, and supplemented by two more 
cantos, written in 1782. 

After the war Trumbull was associated with other Hartford wits in the 

* The imprint of the first edition is Philadelphia, 1775. 
395 



3g6 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

production of satires supporting the Federalists. In 1820 he issued a col- 
lected edition of his poetical works, the text of which is, with the omission 
of a few footnotes, followed in the selections here given. He held various 
political offices in Connecticut, and in 1825 removed to Detroit, Mich., 
where he died in 183 1.] 

INVOCATION TO SLEEP 

[From "Ode to Sleep"] 

I 

Come, gentle Sleep ! 
Balm of my wounds and softner of my woes, 
And lull my weary heart in sweet repose, 
And bid my sadden'd soul forget to weep, 
And close the tearful eye; 
While dewy eve with solemn sweep, 
Hath drawn her fleecy mantle o'er the sky, 
And chaced afar, adown th' ethereal way, 
The din of bustling care and gaudy eye of day. 

n 

Come, but thy leaden sceptre leave, 

Thy opiate rod, thy poppies pale, 
Dipp'd in the torpid fount of Lethe's stream. 

That shroud with night each intellectual beam. 
And quench th' immortal fire, in deep Oblivion's wave. 

Yet draw the thick impervious veil 

O'er all the scenes of tasted woe; 

Command each cypress shade to flee; 

Between this toil-worn world and me. 
Display thy curtain broad, and hide the realms below. 

in 

Descend, and graceful in thy hand, 
With thee bring thy magic wand, 
And thy pencil, taught to glow 
In all the hues of Iris' bow. 
And call thy bright, aerial train, 



JOHN TRUMBULL 397 

Each fairy form and visionary shade, 

That in the Elysian land of dreams, 

The flower-enwoven banks along, 
Or bowery maze, that shades the purple streams. 
Where gales of fragrance breathe th' enamour'd song, 

In more than mortal charms array'd. 
People the airy vales and revel in thy reign. 

IV 

But drive afar the haggard crew. 
That haunt the guilt-encrimson'd bed, 

Or dim before the frenzied view 
Stalk with slow and sullen tread; 

While furies with infernal glare. 
Wave their pale torches through the troubled air: 

And deep from Darkness' inmost womb, 
Sad groans dispart the icy tomb, 

And bid the sheeted spectre rise. 
Mid shrieks and fiery shapes and deadly fantasies. 



Come and loose the mortal chain, 

That binds to clogs of clay th' ethereal wing; 
And give th' astonish'd soul to rove, 
Where never sunbeam stretch'd its wide domain; 
And hail her kindred forms above. 
In fields of uncreated spring. 
Aloft where realms of endless glory rise, 
And rapture paints in gold the landscape of the skies. 

TOM BRAINLESS AT COLLEGE 

[From "The Progress of Dulness," Part I] 

Two years thus spent in gathering knowledge, 
The lad sets forth t'unlade at college, 
While down his sire and priest attend him, 
To introduce and recommend him; 



398 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

Or if detain'd, a letter's sent 
Of much apocryphal content, 
To set him forth, how dull soever, 
As very learn'd and very clever; 
A genius of the first emission, 
With burning love for erudition ; 
So studious he'll outwatch the moon 
And think the planets set too soon. 
He had but Httle time to fit in; 
Examination too must frighten. 
Depend upon't he must do well. 
He knows much more than he can tell; 
Admit him, and in little space 
He'll beat his rivals in the race; 
His father's incomes are but small, 
He comes now, if he come at all. 
So said, so done, at college now 
He enters well, no matter how; 
New scenes awhile his fancy please, 
But all must yield to love of ease. 
In the same round condemn'd each day, 
To study, read, recite and pray; 
To make his hours of business double — 
He can't endure th' increasing trouble; 
And finds at length, as times grow pressing, 
All plagues are easier than his lesson. 
With sleepy eyes and count'nance heavy, 
With much excuse of non paravi} 
Much absence, tardes and egresses, 
The college-evil on him seizes. 
Then ev'ry book, which ought to please, 
Stirs up the seeds of dire disease; 
Greek spoils his eyes, the print's so fine. 
Grown dim with study, or with wine; 
Of Tully's latin much afraid, 

* Non paravi, I have not prepared for recitation — an excuse commonly given; 
tardes and egresses were terms used at college, for coming in late and going out 
before the conclusion of service. 



JOHN TRUMBULL 399 

Each page, he calls the doctor's aid; 

While geometry, with lines so crooked, 

Sprains all his wits to overlook it. 

His sickness puts on every name. 

Its cause and uses still the same; 

'Tis tooth-ache, cholic, gout or stone, 

With phases various as the moon; 

But though through all the body spread. 

Still makes its cap'tal seat, the head. 

In all diseases, 'tis expected. 

The weakest parts be most infected. 

Kind head-ache hail ! thou blest disease, 
The friend of idleness and ease; 
Who mid the still and dreary bound 
Where college walls her sons surround, 
In spite of fears, in justice' spite, 
Assumest o'er laws dispensing right, 
Sett'st from his task the blunderer free. 
Excused by dulness and by thee. 
Thy vot'ries bid a bold defiance 
To all the calls and threats of science, 
Slight learning human and divine. 
And hear no prayers, and fear no fine. 

And yet how oft the studious gain, 
The dulness of a letter'd brain; 
Despising such low things the while, 
As English grammar, phrase and style; 
Despising ev'ry nicer art, 
That aids the tongue, or mends the heart; 
Read ancient authors o'er in vain. 
Nor taste one beauty they contain; 
Humbly on trust accept the sense, 
But deal for words at vast expense; 
Search well how every term must vary 
From Lexicon to Dictionary; 
And plodding on in one dull tone, 
Gain ancient tongues and lose their own, 
Bid every graceful charm defiance. 



400 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

And woo the skeleton of science. 

Come ye, who finer arts despise, 
And scoff at verse as heathen lies; 
In all the pride of dulness rage 
At Pope, or Milton's deathless page; 
Or stung by truth's deep-searching line, 
Rave ev'n at rhymes as low as mine; 
Say ye, who boast the name of wise, 
Wherein substantial learning lies. 
Is it, superb in classic lore, 
To speak what Homer spoke before, 
To write the language Tully wrote. 
The style, the cadence and the note? 
Is there a charm in sounds of Greek, 
No language else can learn to speak; 
That cures distemper'd brains at once. 
Like Pliny's rhymes for broken bones? 
Is there a spirit found in Latin, 
That must evap'rate in translating? 
And say are sense and genius bound 
To any vehicles of sound ? 
Can knowledge never reach the brains. 
Unless convey'd in ancient strains? 
While Homer sets before your eyes 
Achilles' rage, Ulysses' lies, 
Th' armours of Jove in masquerade, 
And Mars entrapp'd by Phoebus' aid; 
While Virgil sings, in verses grave, 
His lovers meeting in a cave, 
His ships turn'd nymphs, in pagan fables, 
And how the Trojans eat their tables; 
While half this learning but displays 
The follies of the former days; 
And for our linguists, fairly try them, 
A tutor'd parrot might defy them. 

Go to the vulgar — 'tis decreed, 
There you must preach and write or plead; 
Broach every curious Latin phrase 



JOHN TRUMBULL 401 

From TuUy down to Lily's days: 

All this your hearers have no share in, 

Bate but their laughing and their staring. 

Interpreters must pass between, 

To let them know a word you mean. 

Yet could you reach that lofty tongue 
Which Plato wrote and Homer sung; 
Or ape the Latin verse and scanning, 
Like Vida, Cowley or Buchanan; 
Or bear ten phrase-books in your head; 
Yet know, these languages are dead. 
And nothing, e'er, by death, was seen 
Improved in beauty, strength or mien, 
Whether the sexton use his spade. 
Or sorcerer wake the parted shade. 
Think how would Tully stare or smile 
At these wan spectres of his style, 
Or Horace in his jovial way 
Ask what these babblers mean to say. 

M'FINGAL'S ACCOMPLISHMENTS 

[From "McFingal," Canto I] 

No ancient sybil, famed in rhyme, 
Saw deeper in the womb of time; 
No block in old Dodona's grove 
Could ever more orac'lar prove. 
Not only saw he all that could be, 
But much that never was, nor would be; 
Whereby all prophets far outwent he. 
Though former days produced a plenty : 
For any man with half an eye 
What stands before him can espy; 
But optics sharp it needs, I ween, 
To see what is not to be seen. 
As in the days of ancient fame, 
Prophets and poets were the same, 



402 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

And all the praise that poets gain 
Is for the tales they forge and feign: 
So gain'd our 'Squire his fame by seeing 
Such things, as never would have being; 
Whence he for oracles was grown 
The very tripod ^ of his town. 
Gazettes no sooner rose a lie in, 
But strait he fell to prophesying; 
Made dreadful slaughter in his course, 
O'erthrew provincials, foot and horse, 
Brought armies o'er, by sudden pressings, 
Of Hanoverians, Swiss and Hessians, 
Feasted with blood his Scottish clan, 
And hang'd all rebels to a man, 
Divided their estates and pelf, 
And took a goodly share himself. 
All this with spirit energetic, 
He did by second-sight prophetic. 

Thus stored with intellectual riches, 
Skill'd was our 'Squire in making speeches; 
Where strength of brains united centers 
With strength of lungs surpassing Stentor's.^ 
But as some muskets so contrive it. 
As oft to miss the mark they drive at, 
And though well aim'd at duck or plover. 
Bear wide, and kick their owners over: 
So fared our 'Squire, whose reas'ning toil 
Would often on himself recoil. 
And so much injured more his side, 
The stronger arguments he applied; 
As old war-elephants, dismay'd. 
Trod down the troops they came to aid. 
And hurt their own side more in battle, 
Than less and ordinary cattle. 
Yet at Town-meetings every chief 

* The tripod was a sacred three-legged stool, from which the ancient priests 
uttered their oracles. 

* Stentor, the loud-voic'd herald in Homer. 



JOHN TRUMBULL 403 

Pinn'd faith on great M'Fingal's sleeve; 
Which when he lifted, all by rote 
Raised sympathetic hands to vote. 

M'FINGAL TO THE WHIGS 

[From "McFingal," Canto II] 

"Your boasted patriotism is scarce, 
And country's love is but a farce: 
For after all the proofs you bring, 
We Tories know there's no such thing. 
Hath not Dalrymple ^ show'd in print, 
And Johnson too, there's nothing in't; 
Produced you demonstration ample. 
From others' and their own example, 
That self is still, in either faction. 
The only principle of action; 
The loadstone, whose attracting tether 
Keeps the politic world together: 
And spite of all your double deahng, 
We all are sure 'tis so, from feeling. 

" Who heeds your babbhng of transmitting 
Freedom to brats of your begetting, 
Or will proceed, as tho' there were a tie, 
And obligation to posterity? 
We get them, bear them, breed and nurse. 
What has posterity done for us. 
That we, least they their rights should lose. 
Should trust our necks to gripe of noose? 
"And who believes you will not run? 
Ye're cowards, every mother's son; 
And if you offer to deny, 

' This writer undertook to demonstrate, that all the celebrated British patriots 
were pensioners, in the pay of France. His proof is derived from the letters of 
the French ambassadors, who, accounting for the monies received from their 
court, charge so many thousand guineas paid to Hampden, Sidney, and others, 
as bribes. We are told also that Admiral Russell defeated the French fleet, at 
a time when he had engaged most solemnly, and received a stipulated sum, to be 
beaten himself. 



404 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

We've witnesses to prove it by. 

Attend th' opinion first, as referee, 

Of your old general, stout Sir Jeffrey ; ^ 

Who swore that with five thousand foot 

He'd rout you all, and in pursuit 

Run thro' the land, as easily 

As camel thro' a needle's eye. 

Did not the mighty Colonel Grant 

Against your courage pour his rant, 

Afl&rm your universal failure 

In every principle of valour. 

And swear no scamperers e'er could match you, 

So swift, a bullet scarce could catch you? 

And will you not confess, in this 

A judge most competent he is; 

Well skill'd on running to decide, 

As what himself has often tried? 

'Twould not methinks be labor lost, 

If you'd sit down and count the cost, 

And ere you call your Yankies out, 

First think what work you've set about. 

Have you not roused, his force to try on. 

That grim old beast, the British Lion; 

And know you not, that at a sup 

He's large enough to eat you up? 

Have you survey'd his jaws beneath. 

Drawn inventories of his teeth. 

Or have you weigh'd, in even balance, 

His strength and magnitude of talons? 

His roar would change your boasts to fear, 

As easily, as sour ^ small beer ; 

And make your feet from dreadful fray, 

By native instinct run away. 

Britain, depend on't, will take on her 

T'assert her dignity and honor, 

* Sir Jeffrey Amherst, Grant, and other officers, who had served in America, 
were so ignorant, silly, or malicious, as to make such assertions in Parliament. 

* It is asserted that the roar of a lion will turn small beer sour. 



JOHN TRUMBULL 405 

And ere she'd lose your share of pelf, 
Destroy your country, and herself. 
For has not North declared they fight 
To gain substantial rev'nue by't. 
Denied he'd ever deign to treat, 
Till on your knees and at his feet ? 
And feel you not a trifling ague 
From Van's ' Delenda est Carthago ' ? * 
For this now Britain has projected, 
Think you she has not means t'effect it? 
Has she not set at work all engines 
To spirit up the native Indians, 
Send on your backs the tawny band. 
With each an hatchet in his hand, 
T'amuse themselves with scalping knives, 
And butcher children and your wives; 
And paid them for your scalps at sale 
More than your heads would fetch by tale; 
That she might boast again with vanity, 
Her English national humanity? 
For now in its primeval sense 
This term, humanity, comprehends 
All things of which, on this side hell. 
The human mind is capable; 
And thus 'tis well, by writers sage, 
Applied to Britain and to Gage." 

THE COMBAT AT THE LIBERTY POLE 

[From "McFingal," Canto III] 

M'FiNGAL, rising at the word. 

Drew forth his old militia-sword; 

Thrice cried " King George," as erst in distress, 

Knights of romance invoked a mistress; 

' Carthage must he annihilated. There actually existed, a little time before 
the war, a member of Parliament of the name of Van, who in a speech there applied 
this famous threat of Cato to America, and particularly to Boston, as the place to 
begin the work of destruction. 



406 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

And brandishing the blade in air, 

Struck terror through th' opposing war. 

The Whigs, unsafe within the wind 

Of such commotion, shrunk behind. 

With whirling steel around address'd, 

Fierce through their thickest throng he press'd, 

(Who roll'd on either side in arch. 

Like Red Sea waves in Israel's march) 

And like a meteor rushing through, 

Struck on their Pole a vengeful blow. 

Around, the Whigs, of clubs and stones 

Discharged whole vollies, in platoons, 

That o'er in whistling fury fly; 

But not a foe dares venture nigh. 

And now perhaps with glory crown'd 

Our 'Squire had fell'd the pole to ground, 

Had not some Pow'r, a whig at heart. 

Descended down and took their part ; * 

(Whether 'twere Pallas, Mars or Iris, 

'Tis scarce worth while to make inquiries) 

Who at the nick of time alarming. 

Assumed the solemn form of Chairman, 

Address'd a Whig, in every scene 

The stoutest wrestler on the green, 

And pointed where the spade was found, 

Late used to set their pole in ground, 

And urged, with equal arms and might, 

To dare our 'Squire to single fight. 

The Whig thus arm'd, untaught to yield, 

Advanced tremendous to the field: 

Nor did M'Fingal shun the foe. 

But stood to brave the desp'rate blow; 

While all the party gazed, suspended 

To see the deadly combat ended; 

' The learned reader will readily observe the allusions in this scene, to the single 
combats of Paris and Menelaus in Homer, ^neas and the Turnus in Virgil, and 
Michael and Satan in Milton. [Several footnotes to the rest of this selection, in 
which the author cites parallel passages from Virgil, Milton, and Juvenal, are 
omitted.] 



JOHN TRUMBULL 407 

And Jove in equal balance weigh'd 

The sword against the brandish'd spade, 

He weigh'd; but lighter than a dream, 

The sword flew up, and kick'd the beam. 

Our 'Squire on tiptoe rising fair 

Lifts high a noble stroke in air, 

Which hung not, but like dreadful engines, 

Descended on his foe in vengeance. 

But ah ! in danger, with dishonor 

The sword perfidious fails its owner; 

That sword, which oft had stood its ground. 

By huge trainbands encircled round; 

And on the bench, with blade right loyal, 

Had won the day at many a trial,^ 

Of stones and clubs had braved th' alarms, 

Shrunk from these new Vulcanian arms. 

The spade so temper'd from the sledge, 

Nor keen nor solid harm'd its edge, 

Now met it, from his arm of might. 

Descending with steep force to smite; 

The blade snapp'd short — and from his hand, 

With rust embrown'd the glittering sand. 

Swift turn'd M'Fingal at the view. 

And call'd to aid th' attendant crew, 

In vain; the Tories all had run. 

When scarce the fight was well begun; 

Their setting wigs he saw decreas'd 

Far in th' horizon tow'rd the west. 

Amazed he view'd the shameful sight, 

And saw no refuge, but in flight: 

But age unwieldy check'd his pace. 

Though fear had wing'd his flying race; 

For not a trifling prize at stake; 

No less than great M'Fingal's back. 

With legs and arms he work'd his course, 

Like rider that outgoes his horse, 

* It was the fashion in New-England at that time, for judges to wear swords on 
the bench. 



4o8 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

And labor'd hard to get away, as 

Old Satan struggling on through chaos; 

'Till looking back, he spied in rear 

The spade-arm'd chief advanced too near: 

Then stopp'd and seized a stone, that lay 

An ancient landmark near the way; 

Nor shall we as old bards have done, 

Affirm it weigh'd an hundred ton; 

But such a stone, as at a shift 

A modern might suffice to lift. 

Since men, to credit their enigmas, 

Are dwindled down to dwarfs and pigmies, 

And giants exiled to their cronies 

To Brobdignags and Patagonias. 

But while our Hero turn'd him round, 

And tugg'd to raise it from the ground, 

The fatal spade discharged a blow 

Tremendous on his rear below: 

His bent knee fail'd, and void of strength 

Stretch'd on the ground his manly length. 

Like ancient oak o'erturn'd, he lay, 

Or tower to tempests fall'n a prey, 

Or mountain sunk with all his pines, 

Or flow'r the plow to dust consigns. 

And more things else — but all men know 'em' 

If slightly versed in epic poem. 

At once the crew, at this dread crisis, 

Fall on, and bind him, ere he rises; 

And with loud shouts and joyful soul 

Conduct him prisoner to the pole. 



TIMOTHY DWIGHT 

[Timothy Dwight, another of the more famous "Hartford Wits," was the 
grandson of Jonathan Edwards. He was born in Northampton, Mass., in 
1752, and was graduated from Yale College in 1769. He was a tutor in his 
Alma Mater at the same time as Trumbull, with whom he collaborated in lit- 
erary work. For a year he was chaplain in the Continental army. After- 
ward he tried farming and teaching, and served a term in the state legisla- 
ture. In 1783 he became pastor at Greenfield Hill, in Fairfield, Conn., and 
from 1795 to his death in 1817 he was president of Yale College. 

Many writings of President Dwight were published, the majority of them 
being on religious and theological subjects. Only those most interesting to 
the student of American literary history can be mentioned here. "Colum- 
bia," a song written while he was a chaplain in the army, was for a long time 
popular. "The Conquest of Canaan," an epic first published in 1785, was 
said to have been written before 1774, but several references to Revolution- 
ary battles must have been inserted after these events took place, and it is 
not unlikely that the whole poem was revised just before it was published. 
In 1794 appeared "Greenfield Hill," a poem in seven parts. It was origi- 
nally intended that each part should be in the manner of some popular 
English poet, and although this plan was abandoned, the imitation is obvious 
in many passages. In 1797 Dwight published a bitter verse satire, "The 
Triumph of Infidelity." The year after his death five volumes of his ser- 
mons were published with the title "Theology explained and defended"; and 
in 1S21 his "Travels in New England and New York" was issued in four 
volumes. The last-named work is based on notes of all sorts made during 
the journeys which occupied many of the author's vacations while he was 
president of Yale. 

As a writer of verse, Dwight had command of a small but intense poetic 
vocabulary, and produced many monotonously sonorous lines in imitation 
of the eighteenth-century English poets. He was deficient in a sense of 
humor, and in real poetic insight, and little of his work can truly be called 
poetry. His satirical and controversial writings are especially unfortunate. 
The "Travels" shows his credulity, his religious narrov/ness, and an odd 
fondness for sensational anecdotes, but it also shows his appreciation of 
the historic importance of details, and is his most readable, and perhaps his 
most valuable, work. 

The version of "Columbia" here given is from the "Columbian Muse," 
New York, 1794. The selections from "The Conquest of Canaan," "Green- 
field Hill," and the "Travels" are from the first editions of each, published 
respectively in 17S5, 1794, and 1S21.] 

409 



41 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

COLUMBIA 

Columbia, Columbia, to glory rise. 
The queen of the worid, and child of the skies ! 
Thy genius commands thee; with raptures behold. 
While ages on ages thy splendours unfold. 
Thy reign is the last, and the noblest of time, 
Most fruitful thy soil, most inviting thy clime. 
Let the crimes of the east ne'er encrimson thy name, 
Be freedom, and science, and virtue, thy fame. 

To conquest, and slaughter, let Europe aspire, 
Whelm nations in blood, and wrap cities in fire. 
Thy heroes the rights of mankind shall defend, 
And triumph pursue them, and glory attend. 
A world is thy realm : for a world be thy laws, 
Enlarg'd as thine empire, and just as thy cause; 
On Freedom's broad basis, that empire shall rise, 
Extend with the main, and dissolve with the skies. 

Fair Science her gates to thy sons shall unbar. 
And the east see thy morn hide the beams of her star. 
New bards, and new sages, unrival'd shall soar 
To fame, unextinguish'd, when time is no more; 
To thee, the last refuge of virtue design'd. 
Shall fly from all nations the best of mankind; 
Here, grateful to heaven, with transport shall bring 
Their incense, more fragrant than odours of spring. 

Nor less shall thy fair ones to glory ascend, 
And Genius and Beauty in harmony blend; 
The graces of form shall awake pure desire, 
And the charms of the soul ever cherish the fire; 
Their sweetness unmingled, their manners refin'd, 
And Virtue's bright image, instamp'd on the mind, 
With peace, and soft rapture, shall teach life to glow, 
And Hght up a smile in the aspect of woe. 

Thy fleets to all nations thy pow'r shall display. 
The nations admire, and the ocean obey; 
Each shore to thy glory its tribute unfold. 
And the east and the south yield their spices and gold. 



TIMOTHY DWIGHT 411 

As the day-spring unbounded, thy splendour shall flow, 
And earth's little kingdoms before thee shall bow; 
While the ensigns of union, in triumph unfurl'd, 
Hush the tumult of war, and give peace to the world. 
Thus, as down a lone valley, with cedars o'erspread, 
From war's dread confusion I pensively stray'd — 
The gloom from the face of fair heav'n retir'd ; 
The winds ceas'd to murmur; the thunders expir'd; 
Perfumes, as of Eden, flow'd sweetly along. 
And a voice, as of angels, enchantingly sung: 
" Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise. 
The queen of the world, and the child of the skies." 

A BATTLE 

[From "The Conquest of Canaan," Book III] 

As now the tempest hid the orb of day. 
The threatening fronts approach'd, in dark array; 
Swift through th' expansion clouds of arrows fly; 
Stones shower on stones, and whizz along the sky; 
Sing the shrill strings; the hissing darts resound; 
From clanging bucklers rattling pebbles bound; 
Now here, now there, the warriors fall; amain 
Groans murmur; armour sounds; and shouts convulse the plain. 

With deep amaze, the sons of Ai beheld 
Their foes, with ardour, tempt the deathful field. 
For now, elate, they sought the early fight. 
To certain victory march'd with fierce delight; 
And fondly hop'd, ere Oran's hosts should come, 
To seal devoted Israel's hapless doom. 
But vain their hopes; for with firm duty strong, 
Undaunted Zimri fir'd the martial throng — 
Now, warriors, now — the glowing leader cried — 
Shall Israel's arms regain their ravish'd pride; 
Ai now shall learn, untaught our force to slight, 
What virtue warms us to the generous fight; 
That one lost field shall ne'er our race dismay, 
Nor shame, nor terror, stain the glorious day. 



412 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

While thus untroubled thoughts his words confess'd, 
All-anxious fears disturb'd his boding breast. 
The host he knew distrustful of the sky, 
Propense to terror, and prepar'd to fly; 
He saw them sad move lingering o'er the plain, 
New arm their foes, and double all their train: 
And the great Chief a strong injunction gave, 
Each post with care to guard, each band to save, 
Each opening fair for v>?ise retreat t' imbrace 
To tempt no loss, and hazard no disgrace. 
But far beyond his thoughts, the sound of war, 
The clash of arms, the shouts that rend the air, 
Th' inspiring tumults of the dreadful plain. 
New strung their nerves, and rous'd their hopes again. 
In quick oblivion, flight and fear were lost; 
Increasing ardours every bosom toss'd; 
Firm-wedg'd, unshaken, rush'd the darkening train; 
Spears flew; air murmur'd; corses heap'd the plain; 
One flight of twinkling arms, all ether shone; 
Earth roar'd one shout confus'd, one mingled groan; 
Each host press'd eager; each disdain'd to fly; 
And wide confusion blended earth and sky. 

Mean time the storm, along dark mountains driven, 
Hung o'er the plain, and wrapp'd the mid-day heaven; 
More frequent lightnings blaz'd the skies around. 
And peals more dreadful shook the solid ground. 
From the black clouds the whirlwinds burst amain, 
Scour'd all the groves, and rag'd along the plain; 
Beneath, huge shouts the murmuring concave rend, 
And drifts of dust in gloomy pomp ascend. 

With boding hearts, the chiefs of Ai survey'd 
The sun's pure splendor lost in cloudy shade; 
The sun, their god, his smiling face withdrew, 
And round the world a fearful darkness flew: 
Hence unapprov'd they doom'd the doubtful day. 
And scann'd, with careful looks their homeward way: 
As thus they backward gaz'd, the driving rain 
Rush'd, with impetuous fury, o'er the plain; 



TIMOTHY DWIGHT 413 

Fierce down th' expansion streaming torrents shower'd, 
And blood-stain'd brooks along the champain pour'd. 
The clash of arms, the long-resounding cries, 
Wav'd o'er the world a hoarse, tumultuous noise; 
From heaven's huge vault loud-rolling thunders came, 
And lightnings blazed unsufferable flame. 
Then sad, dishearten'd, from the dreadful fire 
Ai's generous leaders bade their host retire. 
Reluctant, slow, disdaining base defeat, 
From Israel's sons the grisly ranks retreat; 
Surpriz'd, fierce Israel see their backward course, 
Hang o'er their rear, and press with gathering force; 
Intenser shouts ascend; the lightning's flame 
Casts o'er the shields a strong alternate gleam; 
Loud thunders roll; the fields all quake around: 
And the rain rushing roars along the ground. 
Then Zimri's piercing voice, with stern commands. 
Restrains the fury of his eager bands. 
So fierce the thousands burn for raging war, 
Even single warriors urge their foes afar; 
'Till near the chief, they see the standard rise, 
While yet the tempest fills the midway skies, 
Then deep-embosom'd in th' obscuring rain. 
Their foes untroubled cross the homeward plain. 

Mean time the winds were pass'd, the storm was o'er. 
And streaming torrents ceas'd from heaven to pour; 
Strait to the camp, by Zimri's voice compell'd, 
The bands slow-moving cross'd the spacious field. 
With joy, the chief resolv'd the troubled day. 
The fate, and influence of the fierce affray; 
Ai, in fierce conflict, fail'd the wreath to gain, 
And Israel, dauntless, trod the skirmish'd plain; 
He saw the host again to combat won 
Their hopes new-kindled, and their terror gone; 
Thence his own bosom boding fear dispell'd, 
And promis'd triumph on the future field. 

And now the Youth they pass'd, as, with fond eyes, 
He saw the varying fate of combat rise; 



414 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

To him, deep-pondering, blew the storm in vain, 
Scarce heard the peals, or mark'd the battering rain: 
'Till Ai, retir'd, the doubtful strife resign'd. 
And calm'd the tumults of his anxious mind. 

Then gentler scenes his rapt attention gain'd. 
Where God's great hand in clear effulgence reign'd, 
The growing beauties of the solemn even. 
And all the bright sublimities of heaven. 
Above tall western hills, the light of day 
Shot far the splendors of his golden ray; 
Bright from the storm, with tenfold grace he smil'd, 
The tumult soften'd, and the world grew mild. 
With pomp transcendant, rob'd in heavenly dies, 
Arch'd the clear rainbow round the orient skies; 
Its changeless form, its hues of beam divine, 
Fair type of truth, and beauty; endless shine. 
Around th' expanse, with thousand splendors rare. 
Gay clouds sail'd wanton through the kindling air; 
From shade to shade, unnumber'd tinctures blend; 
Unnumber'd forms of wonderous light extend; 
In pride stupendous, glittering walls aspire, 
Grac'd with bright domes, and crown'd with towers of fire, 
On clififs cliffs burn; o'er mountains mountains roll: 
A burst of glory spreads from pole to pole : 
Rapt with the splendor, every songster sings, 
Tops the high bough, and claps his glistening wings: 
With new-born green, reviving nature blooms. 
And sweeter fragrance freshening air perfumes. 

Far south the storm withdrew its troubled reign; 
Descending twilight dimm'd the dusky plain; 
Black night arose; her curtains hid the ground; 
Less roar'd, and less, the thunder's solemn sound; 
The bended lightning shot a brighter stream. 
Or wrapp'd all heaven in one wide, mantling flame; 
By turns, o'er plains, and woods, and mountains, spread 
Faint, yellow glimmerings, and a deeper shade. 

From parting clouds, the moon out-breaking shone, 
And sate, sole empress, on her silver throne; 



TIMOTHY D WIGHT 415 

In clear, full beauty, round all nature smil'd, 
And claim'd o'er heaven, and earth, dominion mild; 
With humbler glory, stars her court attend. 
And bless'd, and union'd, silent lustre blend. 

THE VILLAGE CHURCH AND THE VILLAGE SCHOOL 

[From "Greenfield Hill"] 

Beside yon church, that beams a modest ray, 
With tidy neatness reputably gay, 
When, mild and fair, as Eden's seventh-day light, 
In silver silence, shines the Sabbath bright, 
In neat attire, the village households come. 
And learn the path-way to the eternal home. 
Hail solemn ordinance ! worthy of the Skies ; 
Whence thousand richest blessings daily rise; 
Peace, order, cleanliness, and manners sweet, 
A sober mind, to rule submission meet, 
Enlarging knowledge, life from guilt refin'd, 
And love to God, and friendship to mankind. 
In the clear splendour of thy vernal morn, 
New-quicken'd man to light, and life, is born; 
The desert of the mind with virtue blooms; 
It's flowers unfold, it's fruits exhale perfumes; 
Proud guilt dissolves, beneath the searching ray, 
And low debasement, trembling, creeps away; 
Vice bites the dust ; foul Error seeks her den ; 
And God, descending, dwells anew with men. 
Where yonder humbler spire salutes the eye, 
It's vane slow turning in the liquid sky. 
Where, in light gambols, healthy striplings sport, 
Ambitious learning builds her outer court; 
A grave preceptor, there, her usher stands. 
And rules, without a rod, her little bands. 
Some half-grown sprigs of learning grac'd his brow: 
Little he knew, though much he wish'd to know, 
Inchanted hung o'er Virgil's honey'd lay, 
And smil'd, to see desipient Horace play; 



4l6 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

Glean'd scraps of Greek; and, curious, trac'd afar, 
Through Pope's clear glass, the bright Maeonian star. 
Yet oft his students at his wisdom star'd, 
For many a student to his side repair'd, 
Surpriz'd, they heard him Dilworth's knots untie, 
And tell, what lands beyond the Atlantic lie. 

Many his faults; his virtues small, and few; 
Some little good he did, or strove to do; 
Laborious still, he taught the early mind, 
And urg'd to manners meek, and thoughts refin'd; 
Truth he impress'd, and every virtue prais'd; 
While infant eyes, in wondering silence, gaz'd; 
The worth of time would, day by day, unfold, 
And tell them, every hour was made of gold. 
Brown Industry he lov'd; and oft declar'd 
How hardy Sloth, in life's sad evening, far'd. 



THE MUTABILITY OF EARTHLY THINGS 

[From "Greenfield Hill"] 

Ah me ! while up the long, long vale of time. 

Reflection wanders towards th' eternal vast. 

How starts the eye, at many a change sublime, 

Unbosom'd dimly by the ages pass'd! 

What Mausoleums crowd the mournful waste! 

The tombs of empires fallen ! and nations gone ! 

Each, once inscrib'd, in gold, with "Aye to Last" 

Sate as a queen; proclaira'd the world her own, 

And proudly cried, "By me no sorrows shall be known." 

Soon fleets the sunbright Form, by man ador'd. 

Soon fell the Head of gold, to Time a prey; 

The Arms, the Trunlv, his cankering tooth devour'd; 

And whirlwinds blew the Iron dust away. 

Where dwelt imperial Timur? — far astray, 

Some lonely-musing pilgrim now enquires: 

And, rack'd by storms, and hastening to decay, 



TIMOTHY DWIGHT 417 

Mohammed's Mosque forsees it's final fires; 

And Rome's more lordly Temple day by day expires. 

As o'er proud Asian realms the traveller winds, 

His manly spirit, hush'd by terror, falls; 

When some deceased town's lost site he finds, 

Where ruin wild his pondering eye appals; 

Where silence swims along the moulder'd walls, 

And broods upon departed Grandeur's tomb. 

Through the lone, hollow aisles sad echo calls, 

At each slow step; deep sighs the breathing gloom, 

And weeping fields, around, bewail their Empress' doom. 

Where o'er an hundred realms, the throne uprose. 
The screech-owl nests, the panther builds his home; 
Sleep the dull newts, the lazy adders doze, 
Where pomp and luxury danc'd the golden room. 
Low Hes in dust the sky-resembled dome; 
Tall grass around the broken column waves; 
And brambles climb, and lonely thistles bloom: 
The moulder'd arch the weedy streamlet laves, 
And low resound, beneath, unnumber'd sunken graves. 

Soon fleets the sun-bright Form, by man ador'd; 

And soon man's daemon chiefs from memory fade. 

In musty volume, now must be explored. 

Where dwelt imperial nations, long decay'd. 

The brightest meteors angry clouds invade; 

And where the wonders glitter'd, none explain. 

Where Carthage, with proud hand, the trident sway'd, 

Now mud-wall'd cots sit sullen on the plain. 

And wandering, fierce, and wild, sequester'd Arabs reign. 

In thee, O Albion ! queen of nations, live 

Whatever splendours earth's wide realms have known; 

In thee proud Persia sees her pomp revive; 

And Greece her arts; and Rome her lordly throne: 

By every wind, thy Tyrian fleets are blown; 



4l8 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

Supreme, on Fame's dread roll, thy heroes stand; 

All ocean's realms thy naval scepter own; 

Of bards, of sages, how august thy band ! 

And one rich Eden blooms around thy garden'd land. 

But O how vast thy crimes ! Through Heaven's great year, 

When few centurial suns have trac'd their way; 

When southern Europe, worn by feuds severe; 

Weak, doating, fallen, has bow'd to Russian sway; 

And setting glory beam'd her farewell ray; 

To wastes, perchance, thy brilliant fields shall turn; 

In dust, thy temples, towers, and towns decay; 

The forest howl, where London's turrets burn; 

And all thy garlands deck thy sad, funereal urn. 

Some land, scarce glimmering in the light of fame, 

Scepter'd with arts, and arms (if I divine) 

Some unknown wild, some shore without a name, 

In all thy pomp, shall then majestic shine. 

As silver-headed Time's slow years decline. 

Not ruins only meet th' enquiring eye: 

Where round yon mouldering oak vain brambles twine, 

The filial stem, already towering high. 

Erelong shall stretch his arms, and nod in yonder sky. 

PSALM CXXXVII 

[From Dwight's revision of Watts's Psalms] 

I love thy kingdom. Lord, 
The house of thine abode. 
The church, our blest Redeemer sav'd 
With his own precious blood. 

I love thy Church, O God! 
Her walls before thee stand, 
Dear as the apple of thine eye, 
And graven on thy hand. 



TIMOTHY DWIGHT 419 

If e'er to bless thy sons 
My voice, or hands, deny, 
These hands let useful skill forsake, 
This voice in silence die. 

If e'er my heart forget 
Her welfare, or her wo, 
Let every joy this heart forsake, 
And every grief o'erflow. 

For her my tears shall fall; 
For her my prayers ascend; 
To her my cares and toils be given, 
'Till toils and cares shall end. 

Beyond my highest joy 
I prize her heavenly ways, 
Her sweet communion, solemn vows. 
Her hymns of love and praise. 

Jesus, thou Friend divine. 
Our Saviour and our King, 
Thy hand from every snare and foe 
Shall great deliverance bring. 

Sure as thy truth shall last. 
To Zion shall be given 
The brightest glories, earth can yield, 
And brighter bliss of heaven. 

THE ORIGIN OF A NAME 

[From the "Travels in New-England and New- York"] 

In this township there are two mountains; one of which is 
named Mount Cuba, from a dog which bore that name, and was 
killed upon it by a bear. The other was named Mount Sunday, 
from the following fact. Seven men, one of them a Mr. Palmer, 
went into the Eastern part of the township, and, in the language 



420 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

of the country, were lost; that is, they became wholly uncertain 
of the course, which they were to pursue, in order to regain their 
habitations. Palmer insisted, that it lay in a direction, really 
Eastward, although he believed it to point Westward. His com- 
panions, judging more correctly, determined to take the opposite 
course. In their progress, they passed over this mountain. The 
day, on which they ascended it, was the Sabbath ; and the moun- 
tain has, from this circumstance, derived a name, which it will 
probably retain, so long as the posterity of the English colonists 
inhabit this country. The six men, returning home, and not 
finding Palmer, went again in search of him. In a place, two 
miles Eastward of the spot where they had left him, they found 
him engaged in a contest with a bear; which had attacked him 
the preceding evening, on his way. As the bear was advancing 
towards him, he was fortunate enough to procure a club; with 
which he had been able to defend himself, until he made good 
his retreat to a neighbouring tree. The bear followed him as he 
ascended the tree; but his club enabled him to keep the animal 
at bay, until his companions came up, and delivered him from the 
impending destruction. 

I presume you will wonder at my mentioning these trifling 
incidents. I have mentioned them because they are trifles. The 
names of mountains, rivers, and other distinguished natural 
objects, both here and in England, have often seemed to me 
strange and inexplicable. The little incidents, which I have men- 
tioned, furnish, I suspect, a probable explanation of this enig- 
matical subject, in a great proportion of cases. Events, some- 
times more, and sometimes even less, significant than these, have, 
I am persuaded, been the origin of a great part of those odd 
appellations, given to so many of the objects in question. Among 
the proofs, that this opinion is just, the oddity, and the vulgarity 
of the appellations, and the speedy oblivion, into which the causes 
of them have fallen, are, to me, satisfactory. Their oddity proves 
them to have been derived from incidents, aside from the ordi- 
nary course of things: their vulgarity shews them to have been 
given by persons in humble life; and the fact, that the sources 
from which they have sprung have been so soon forgotten, evinces 
their insignificancy. 



JOEL BARLOW 



[Joel Barlow, the third in the most illustrious trio of "Hartford Wits," 
seems to have had many of the characteristics of the traditional Yankee. 
He was born in Connecticut in 1754, and was graduated at Yale College in 
1778. Like many other collegians he served in the army during vacations, 
and is said to have fought at White Plains. After his graduation he studied 
law, then turned his attention for six weeks to divinity, and at the end of that 
time became chaplain of a Massachusetts brigade. In the few years im- 
mediately after the close of the war he practised law, founded a newspaper, 
edited a Psalm book for the Congregational Church of Connecticut, and 
conducted a book-store. Meanwhile he had published, besides his version 
of the Psalms, "The Prospect of Peace," a poem delivered at the time of 
his graduation, and "The Vision of Columbus." Both these were after- 
ward utilized in the construction of the "Columbiad." In 1788 Barlow 
went abroad as agent of a western land company. In England he wrote 
"Advice to the privileged Orders," in prose, and "The Conspiracy of Kings," 
in verse. The first-named of these works led to his expulsion from the 
country, and he went to France, where he took an active part in politics. 
It was while he was on a political mission in Savoy that he wrote "Hasty 
Pudding," his mock-heroic tribute to a favorite dish that was unexpectedly 
set before him. Later he engaged in business in Paris, and served as United 
States consul to Algiers. His fondness for French ideas in politics and reli- 
gion made him an object of suspicion in his native state, where Federalism 
and orthodoxy were dominant. It is said that the Congregational Church 
of Connecticut discarded his version of the Psalms as the work of an apostate. 
When in 1805 he returned to America, he took up his residence near Washing- 
ton. Two years later he published the "Columbiad." In 1811 he was 
appointed minister to France, and the next year he died in Poland, where he 
had gone to meet Napoleon. 

The "Vision of Columbus," which Barlow published in 1787, is a poem 
in nine books of heroic couplet. Columbus, despondent in prison, is taken 
by an angel to a height where he sees all the continent that he has discovered, 
and its future passes in vision before him. The "Columbiad," which ap- 
peared twenty years later, tells the same story at greater length in ten books. 
Barlow presented the unfortunate spectacle of an author becoming more 
bombastic and sophomoric as he grew older. By 1S07 he had become a 
devotee of reformed spelling, and had grown fond of pedantic words, many 
of them of his own coinage. These peculiarities, together with the epic form 
and title of the new work, the unabashed references to Homer and Virgil in 

421 



422 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

the preface, and the fact that the first edition of the poem was very sumptuous 
in typography and binding, tended to expose Barlow to ridicule; and the 
"Columbiad" has ever since been the stock example of an over-ambitious 
American literary production. 

The selections from "The Vision of Columbus" follow the first English 
edition of 1787. The passage from the "Columbiad" is from the second 
edition, 1809. The first and second selections show the treatment of the 
same subject in these two poems. The extract from "The Hasty Pudding " 
follows the reprint of the first edition (1796) in Duyckinck's "Cyclopaedia of 
American Literature."] 

INDEPENDENCE; AND THE COMING OF WAR 

[From the "Vision of Columbus"] 

Adams, enraged, a broken charter bore, 
And lawless acts of ministerial power; 
Some injured right in each loose leaf appears, 
A king in terrors and a land in tears ; 
From all the guileful plots the veil he drew, 
With eye retortive look'd creation thro'. 
Oped the wide range of nature's boundless plan, 
Traced all the steps of liberty and man ; 
Crowds rose to vengeance while his accents rung. 
And Independence thunder'd from his tongue. 

The Hero turn'd. And tow'rd the crowded coast 
Rose on the wave a wide-extended host, 
They shade the main and spread their sails abroad, 
From the wide Laurence to the Georgian flood, 
Point their black batteries to the approaching shore, 
And bursting flames begin the hideous roar. 

Where guardless Falmouth, looking o'er the bay. 
Beheld, unmoved, the stormy thunders play. 
The fire begins; the shells o'er-arching fly, 
And shoot a thousand rainbows thro' the sky; 
On Charlestown spires, on Bristol roofs, they light, 
Groton and Fairfield kindle from the flight. 
Fair Kingston burns, and York's delightful fanes, 
And beauteous Norfolk lights the neighbouring plains; 
From realm to realm the smoky volumes bend, 
Reach round the bays and up the streams extend ; 



JOEL BARLOW 423 

Deep o'er the concave heavy wreaths are roll'd, 

And midland towns and distant groves infold. 

Thro' the dark curls of smoke the winged fires 

CHmb in tall pyramids above the spires; 

Cinders, high-sailing, kindle heaven around, 

And falling structures shake the smouldering ground. 

Now, where the sheeted flames thro' Charlestown roar, 
And lashing waves hiss round the burning shore, 
Thro' the deep folding fires, a neighbouring height 
Thunders o'er all and seems a field of fight. 
Like shadowy phantoms in an evening grove, 
To the dark strife the closing squadrons move; 
They join, they break, they thicken thro' the air, 
And blazing batteries burst along the war; 
Now, wrapp'd in reddening smoke, now dim in sight, 
They sweep the hill or wing the downward flight; 
Here, wheel 'd and wedg'd, whole ranks together turn, 
And the long lightnings from their pieces burn; 
There scattering flashes light the scanty train, 
And broken squadrons tread the moving plain. 
Britons in fresh battalions rise the height, 
And, with increasing vollies, give the fight. 
Till, smear'd with clouds of dust, and bath'd in gore, 
As growing foes their raised artillery pour, 
Columbia's hosts move o'er the fields afar, 
And save, by slow retreat, the sad remains of war. 

INDEPENDENCE; AND THE COMING OF WAR 

[From the "Columbiad"] 

Each generous Adams, freedom's favorite pair, 
And Hancock rose the tyrant's rage to dare, 
Groupt with firm Jefferson, her steadiest hope, 
Of modest mien but vast unclouded scope. 
Like four strong pillars of her state they stand, 
They clear from doubt her brave but wavering band; 
Colonial charters in their hands they bore 
And lawless acts of ministerial power. 



424 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

Some injured right in every page appears, 
A king in terrors and a land in tears; 
From all his guileful plots the veil they drew, 
With eye retortive look'd creation thro, 
Traced moral nature thro her total plan, 
Markt all the steps of liberty and man; 
Crowds rose to reason while their accents rung, 
And Independence thunder'd from their tongue. 

Columbus turn'd; when rolling to the shore 
Swells o'er the seas an undulating roar; 
Slow, dark, portentious, as the meteors sweep 
And curtain black the illimitable deep, 
High stalks, from surge to surge, a demon Form 
That howls thro heaven and breathes a billowing storm. 
His head is hung with clouds; his giant hand 
Flings a blue flame far flickering to the land; 
His blood-stain'd limbs drip carnage as he strides 
And taint with gory grume the staggering tides; 
Like two red suns his quivering eyeballs glare, 
His mouth disgorges all the stores of war, 
Pikes, muskets, mortars, guns and globes of fire 
And lighted bombs that fusing trails expire. 
Percht on his helmet, two twin sisters rode, 
The favorite offspring of the murderous god. 
Famine and Pestilence; whom whilom bore 
His wife, grim Discord, on Trinacria's shore: 
When first their cyclop sons, from Etna's forge, 
Fill'd his foul magazine, his gaping gorge: 
Then earth convulsive groan'd, high shriek'd the air, 
And hell in gratulation call'd him War. 

Behind the fiend, swift hovering for the coast, 
Hangs o'er the wave Britannia's sail-wing'd host; 
They crowd the main, they spread their sheets abroad 
From the wide Laurence to the Georgian flood, 
Point their black batteries to the peopled shore, 
And spouting flames commence the hideous roar. 

Where fortless Falmouth, looking o'er her bay. 
In terror saw the approaching thunders play, 



JOEL BARLOW 425 

The fire begins; the shells o'er-arching fly 
And shoot a thousand rainbows thro the sky; 
On Charlestown spires, on Bedford roofs they light, 
Groton and Fairfield kindle from the flight, 
Norwalk expands the blaze; o'er Reading hills 
High flaming Danbury the welkin fills; 
Esopus burns, Newyork's delightful fanes 
And sea-nursed Norfolk light the neighboring plains. 
From realm to realm the smoky volumes bend, 
Reach round the bays and up the streams extend; 
Deep o'er the concave heavy wreaths are roU'd, 
And midland towns and distant groves infold. 
Thro sohd curls of smoke the bursting fires 
Climb in tall pyramids above the spires. 
Concentring all the winds; whose forces, driven 
With equal rage from every point of heaven, 
Whirl into conflict, round the scantling pour 
The twisting flames and thro the rafters roar, 
Suck up the cinders, send them sailing far. 
To warn the nations of the raging war. 
Bend high the blazing vortex, swell'd and curl'd, 
Careering, brightening o'er the lustred world. 
Absorb the reddening clouds that round them run, 
Lick the pale stars and mock their absent sun: 
Seas catch the splendor, kindling skies resound, 
And falling structures shake the smoldering ground- 
Crowds of wild fugitives, with frantic tread. 
Flit thro the flames that pierce the midnight shade, 
Back on the burning domes revert their eyes, 
Where some lost friend, some perisht infant lies. 
Their maim'd, their sick, their age-enfeebled sires 
Have sunk sad victims to the sateless fires; 
They greet with one last look their tottering walls, 
See the blaze thicken as the ruin falls. 
Then o'er the country train their dumb despair 
And far behind them leave the dancing glare; 
Their own crusht roofs still lend a trembling light. 
Point their long shadows and direct their flight. 



426 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

Till wandering wide they seek some cottage door, 
Ask the vile pittance due the vagrant poor; 
Or faint and faltering on the devious road, 
They sink at last and yield their mortal load. 

But where the sheeted flames thro Charlestown roar, 
And lashing waves hiss round the burning shore, 
Thro the deep folding fires dread Bunker's height 
Thunders o'er all and shows a field of fight. 
Like nightly shadows thro a flaming grove, 
To the dark fray the closing squadrons move; 
They join, they break, they thicken thro the glare, 
And blazing batteries burst along the war; 
Now wrapt in reddening smoke, now dim in sight. 
They rake the hill or wing the downward flight; 
Here, wheel 'd and wedged, Britannia's veterans turn 
And the long lightnings from their muskets burn; 
There scattering strive the thin colonial train. 
Whose broken platoons still the field maintain; 
Till Britain's fresh battalions rise the height 
And with increasing vollies give the fight. 
When, choked with dust, discolor'd deep in gore 
And gall'd on all sides from the ships and shore, 
Hesperia's host moves off the field afar 
And saves, by slow retreat, the sad remains of war. 

HYMN TO PEACE 

[From the "Vision of Columbus"] 

Hail sacred Peace, who claim'st thy bright abode 
Mid circling saints that grace the throne of God ! 
Before his arm, around the shapeless earth, 
Stretch'd the wide heavens and gave to nature birth; 
Ere morning-stars his glowing chambers hung. 
Or songs of gladness woke an angel's tongue, 
Veil'd in the brightness of the Almighty's mind, 
In blest repose thy placid form reclined; 
Borne through the heavens with his creating voice, 
Thy presence bade the unfolding worlds rejoice, 



JOEL BARLOW 427 

Gave to seraphic harps their sounding lays, 
Their joys to angels, and to men their praise. 

From scenes of blood, these beauteous shores that stain, 
From gasping friends that press the sanguine plain, 
From fields, long taught in vain thy flight to mourn, 
I rise, delightful Power, and greet thy glad return. 
Too long the groans of death, and battle's bray, 
Have rung discordant through the unpleasing lay: 
Let pity's tear its balmy fragrance shed. 
O'er heroes' wounds and patriot warriors dead; 
Accept, departed shades, these grateful sighs. 
Your fond attendants to the approving skies. 

And thou, my earliest friend, my Brother dear. 
Thy fall untimely wakes the tender tear. 
In youthful sports, in toils, in blood allied. 
My kind companion and my hopeful guide, 
When Heaven's sad summons, from our infant eyes 
Had call'd our last, loved parent to the skies. 
Tho' young in arms, and still obscure thy name, 
Thy bosom panted for the deeds of fame. 
Beneath Montgomery's eye, when, by thy steel. 
In northern wilds, the lurking savage fell. 
Yet, hapless Youth ! when thy great Leader bled. 
Thro' the same wound thy parting spirit fled. 

But now the untuneful trump shall grate no more, 
Ye silver streams no longer swell with gore; 
Bear from your beauteous banks the crimson stain, 
With yon retiring navies, to the main. 
While other views unfolding on my eyes. 
And happier themes bid bolder numbers rise: 
Bring, bounteous Peace, in thy celestial throng. 
Life to my soul, and rapture to my song; 
Give me to trace, with pure unclouded ray. 
The arts and virtues that attend thy sway; 
To see thy blissful charms, that here descend. 
Through distant realms and endless years extend. 



428 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

A FAVORITE DISH 

[From "The Hasty Pudding"] 

Dear Hasty Pudding, what unpromised joy 
Expands my heart, to meet thee in Savoy ! 
Doom'd o'er the world through devious paths to roam, 
Each cHme my country, and each house my home, 
My soul is soothed, my cares have found an end, 
I greet my long lost, unforgotten friend. 

For thee through Paris, that corrupted town, 
How long in vain I wandered up and down. 
Where shameless Bacchus, with his drenching hoard, 
Cold from his cave usurps the morning board. 
London is lost in smoke and steep 'd in tea; 
No Yankee there can lisp the name of thee; 
The uncouth word, a libel on the town, 
Would call a proclamation from the crown. 
From climes oblique, that fear the sun's full rays, 
Chill'd in their fogs, exclude the generous maize: 
A grain, whose rich, luxuriant growth requires 
Short gentle showers, and bright etherial fires. 

But here, though distant from our native shore, 
With mutual glee, we meet and laugh once more. 
The same ! I know thee by that yellow face. 
That strong complexion of true Indian race, 
Which time can never change, nor soil impair, 
Nor Alpine snows, nor Turkey's morbid air; 
For endless years, through every mild domain. 
Where grows the maize, there thou art sure to reign. 

But man, more fickle, the bold license claims, 
In different realms to give thee different names. 
Thee the soft nations round the warm Levant 
Polenta call, the French of course Polente. 
E'en in thy native regions, how I blush 
To hear the Pennsylvanians call thee Mush I 
On Hudson's banks, while men of Belgic spaw 
Insult and eat thee by the name Suppawn. 



JOEL BARLOW 429 

All spurious appellations, void of truth; 
I've better known thee from my earliest youth, 
Thy name is Hasty-Pudding! thus my sire 
Was wont to greet thee fuming from his fire; 
And while he argued in thy just defence 
With logic clear, he thus explain'd the sense: — 
"In haste the boiling cauldron, o'er the blaze, 
Receives and cooks the ready powder'd maize; 
In haste 'tis served, and then in equal haste, 
With cooling milk, we make the sweet repast. 
No carving to be done, no knife to grate 
The tender ear, and wound the stony plate; 
But the smooth spoon, just fitted to the lip, 
And taught with art the yielding mass to dip^ 
By frequent journeys to the bowl well stored, 
Performs the hasty honors of the board." 
Such is thy name, significant and clear, 
A name, a sound to every Yankee dear, 
But most to me, whose heart and palate chaste 
Preserve my pure hereditary taste. 

There are who strive to stamp with disrepute 
The luscious food, because it feeds the brute; 
In tropes of high-strain'd wit, while gaudy prigs 
Compare thy nursling, man, to pamper'd pigs; 
With sovereign scorn I treat the vulgar jest, 
Nor fear to share thy bounties with the beast. 
What though the generous cow gives me to quaff 
The milk nutritious: am I then a calf? 
Or can the genius of the noisy swine. 
Though nursed on pudding, claim a kin to mine? 
Sure the sweet song, I fashion to thy praise. 
Runs more melodious than the notes they raise. 

My song resounding in its grateful glee, 
No merit claims: I praise myself in thee. 
My father loved thee through his length of days ! 
For thee his fields were shaded o'er with maize; 
From thee what health, what vigor he possess'd, 
Ten sturdy freemen from his loins attest; 



430 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

Thy constellation ruled my natal morn, 
And all my bones were made of Indian corn. 
Delicious grain ! whatever form it take, 
To roast or boil, to smother or to bake, 
In every dish 'tis welcome still to me. 
But most, my Hasty Pudding, most in thee. 



PHILIP FRENEAU 

[While the names of most eighteenth-century American verse-writers have 
passed into obscurity, if not into oblivion, the fame of Philip Freneau has in- 
creased, until he now takes almost unquestioned rank as the most notable 
American poet before Bryant. He was born in 1752, in New York City. 
In 1 771 he was graduated from Princeton in the same class as James Madi- 
son and H. H. Brackenridge. As an undergraduate he made satiric and 
other rhymes, and collaborated with Brackenridge on a novel; and he was 
part author of a poem, "The Rising Glory of America," spoken by Bracken- 
ridge at commencement. After his graduation he taught school for a time. 
Early in 1775 he wrote a number of bitter satires on political topics. From 
the latter part of 1775 to 1778 he was in the West Indies, and it was appar- 
ently on his outward voyage that he first felt the charm of the sailor's life. 
During much of the time from 1778 to 1790 he was on the ocean. In 1780 he 
was on board a vessel that was captured by the British, and he was impris- 
oned for some time in the notorious British prison ships in New York harbor. 
His experiences here form the basis of one of his most vindictive poems. 
After his release he was for some time master of a vessel engaged in the coast- 
ing trade. During all this time he was writing, and contributing to various 
journals. In 1790 he married, and left the sea to become editor of a paper 
in New York. The next year he removed to Philadelphia to accept from 
Jefferson the clerkship for foreign languages in the department of state, and 
to begin the issue of TJie National Gazette. This paper was violently repub- 
lican and pro-French, and the Federalists accused JeflFerson of retaining Fre- 
neau in a government position and inciting him to make unwarranted at- 
tacks on other members of the government. It does not appear that these 
charges were true, but Freneau was foolishly indiscreet, and he was forced 
to abandon the Gazette in 1793. After this he edited other papers for short 
periods of time, went to sea again, and reprinted some of his writings. He 
died in 1832. 

Freneau was a voluminous writer. The latest collection of his poetical 
works fills three large volumes, and the editor gives more than a hundred 
titles of omitted poems. His political satires were popular at a time when 
feeling was intense, and for many years they were the portion of his writings 
most readily accessible to students. For this reason he gained the designa- 
tion, unfortunately perpetuated by his latest editor, of "Poet of the American 
Revolution." It is really not, however, the political poems that have led 
to the recent recognition of Freneau's worth. He combined, somewhat 
strangely, a capacity for the most bitter, violent, and unreasoning hatred, 

431 



432 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

a vivid poetic imagination, and a genuine feeling for nature. His political 
pieces are mostly the sort of satire that abounds in invective, and that is 
unrelieved by humor. Some of his earlier work, especially "The House of 
Night," written during his first visit to the West Indies, reveals his powers of 
imagination; and some poems of later date, such as "The Wild Honey 
Suckle" and "The Indian Burying Ground," show an admirable delicacy 
and lightness of touch. It is by these, and not by his tirades against the Brit- 
ish, that he should be Judged. 

With the revival of interest in Freneau's work has come, naturally, a 
tendency to overpraise. He was not a great, or a highly original, poet. All 
his better work shows obvious influences of his English masters, prominent 
among whom were Milton and Gray. It is not especially significant that 
Campbell and Scott each borrowed a good line from his works. It is not- 
able, however, that in the most troubled time in American history he wrote 
some poems that were full of quiet idealism, and that he showed the romantic 
tendency at least as strongly as any of his English contemporaries. 

Freneau published collections of his poems in 1786, 1788, 1795, 1809, 
and 181 5, besides many single poems in pamphlets and broadsides. A col- 
lection of "Poems relating to the American Revolution" was edited by Evert 
A. Duyckinck in 1865. The selections here given are from the only ade- 
quate edition of his poems, that prepared by Professor Fred Lewis Pattee 
and issued in three volumes at Princeton in 1902-1907.] 



A DREAM-PICTURE 

[From "The House of Night"] 

By some sad means, when Reason holds no sway, 
Lonely I rov'd at midnight o'er a plain 
Where murmuring streams and mingling rivers flow 
Far to their springs, or seek the sea again. 

Sweet vernal May ! tho' then thy woods in bloom 
Flourish 'd, yet nought of this could Fancy see. 
No wild pinks bless'd the meads, no green the fields, 
And naked seem'd to stand each lifeless tree: 

Dark was the sky, and not one friendly star 
Shone from the zenith or horizon, clear, 
Mist sate upon the woods, and darkness rode 
Tn her black chariot, with a wild career. 



PHILIP FRENEAU 433 

And from the woods the late resounding note 
Issued of the loquacious Whip-poor-will/ 
Hoarse, howling dogs, and nightly roving wolves 
Clamour'd from far off cliffs invisible. 

Rude, from the wide extended Chesapeke 
I heard the winds the dashing waves assail, 
And saw from far, by picturing fancy form'd, 
The black ship traveUing through the noisy gale. 

At last, by chance and guardian fancy led, 
I reach'd a noble dome, rais'd fair and high. 
And saw the light from upper windows flame. 
Presage of mirth and hospitality. 

And by that light around the dome appear'd 
A mournful garden of autumnal hue. 
Its lately pleasing flowers all drooping stood 
Amidst high weeds that in rank plenty grew. 

The Primrose there, the violet darkly blue. 
Daisies and fair Narcissus ceas'd to rise, 
Gay spotted pinks their charming bloom withdrew. 
And Polyanthus quench 'd its thousand dyes. 

No pleasant fruit or blossom gaily smil'd, 
Nought but unhappy plants or trees were seen, 
The yew, the myrtle, and the church-yard elm, 
The cypress, with its melancholy green. 

There cedars dark, the osier, and the pine, 
Shorn Tamarisks, and weeping willows grew, 
The poplar tall, the lotos, and the lime, 
And pyracantha did her leaves renew. 

' A bird peculiar to America, of a solitary nature, who never sings but in the 
night. Her note resembles the name given to her by the country people. 



434 



EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

The poppy there, companion to repose, 
Display'd her blossoms that began to fall, 
And here the purple amaranthus rose 
With mint strong-scented, for the funeral. 

And here and there with laurel shrubs between 
A tombstone lay, inscrib'd with strains of woe, 
And stanzas sad, throughout the dismal green. 
Lamented for the dead that slept below. 

THE CAPTAIN OF THE HOSPITAL SHIP 

[From "The British Prison Ship"] 

From this poor vessel, and her sickly crew 
An English ruffian all his titles drew, 
Captain, esquire, commander, too, in chief, 
And hence he gain'd his bread, and hence his beef, 
But, sir, you might have search'd creation round 
Ere such another miscreant could be found — 
Though unprovok'd, an angry face he bore, 
We stood astonish 'd at the oaths he swore; 
He swore, till every prisoner stood aghast, 
And thought him Satan in a brimstone blast; 
He wish'd us banish 'd from the public light, 
He wish'd us shrouded in perpetual night ! 
That were he king, no mercy would he show, 
But drive all rebels to the world below; 
That if we scoundrels did not scrub the decks 
His staff should break our damn'd rebellious necks; 
He swore, besides, that if the ship took fire 
We too should in the pitchy flames expire; 
And meant it so — this tyrant, I engage, 
Had lost his breath to gratify his rage. — 

If where he walk'd a captive carcase lay, 
Still dreadful was the language of the day — 
He call'd us dogs, and would have us'd us so. 
But vengeance check'd the meditated blow. 



PHILIP FRENEAU 435 

The vengeance from our injur'd nation due 
To him, and all the base, unmanly crew. 

Such food they sent, to make complete our woes, 
It look'd like carrion torn from hungry crows, 
Such vermin vile on every joint were seen. 
So black, corrupted, mortified, and lean 
That once we try'd to move our flinty chief, 
And thus address'd him, holding up the beef : 

"See, captain, see! what rotten bones we pick, 
"What kills the healthy cannot cure the sick: 
"Not dogs on such by Christian men are fed, 
"And see, good master, see, what lousy bread!" 

"Your meat or bread (this man of flint replied) 
"Is not my care to manage or provide — 
"But this, damn'd rebel dogs, I'd have you know, 
"That better than you merit we bestow; 
" Out of my sight ! " — nor more he deign'd to say. 
But whisk'd about, and frowning, strode away. 

THE CHARACTER OF CORNWALLIS 
[From a poem "On the Fall of General Earl Cornwallis"] 

A Chieftain join'd with Howe, Burgoyne, and Gage, 
Once more, nor this the last, provokes my rage — 
Who saw these Nimrods first for conquest bum ! 
Who has not seen them to the dust return? 
This ruffian next, who scour'd our ravag'd fields. 
Foe to the human race, Cornwallis }delds ! — 
None e'er before essay'd such desperate crimes. 
Alone he stood, arch-butcher of the times, 
Rov'd uncontroul'd this wasted country o'er, 
Strew'd plains with dead, and bath'd his jaws with gore. 

'Twas thus the wolf, who sought by night his prey, 
And plunder'd all he met with on his way. 
Stole what he could, and murder'd as he pass'd, 
Chanc'd on a trap, and lost his head at last. 

What pen can write, what human tongue can tell 
The endless murders of this man of hell ! 



436 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

Nature in him disgrac'd the form divine; 

Nature mistook, she meant him for a — swine: 

That eye his forehead to her shame adorns; 

Blush ! nature, blush — bestow him tail and horns ! - 

By him the orphans mourn — the widow'd dame 

Saw ruin spreading in the wasteful flame; 

Gash'd o'er with wounds beheld with streaming eye 

A son, a brother, or a consort, die ! — 

Through ruin'd realms bones lie without a tomb, 

And souls he sped to their eternal doom. 

Who else had liv'd, and seen their toils again 

Bless'd by the genius of the rural reign. 

But turn your eyes, and see the murderer fall, 
Then say — "Comwallis has atchiev'd it all." — 
Yet he preserves the honour and the fame 
That vanquish 'd heroes only ought to claim — 
Is he a hero ! — Read, and you will find 
Heroes are beings of a different kind : — 
Compassion to the worst of men is due. 
And mercy heaven's first attribute, 'tis true; 
Yet most presume it was too nobly done 
To grant mild terms to Satan's first-born son. 

Convinc'd we are, no foreign spot on earth 
But Britain only, gave this reptile birth. 
That white-cliff'd isle, the vengeful dragon's den. 
Has sent us monsters where we look'd for men. 
When memory paints their horrid deeds anew, 
And brings these murdering miscreants to your view, 
Then ask the leaders of these bloody bands. 
Can they expect compassion at our hands ? — 

But may this year, the glorious eighty-one, 
Conclude successful, as it first begun ; 
This brilliant year their total downfall see. 
And what Comwallis is, may Clinton be. 



PHILIP FRENEAU 437 

TO THE MEMORY OF THE BRAVE AMERICANS 
UNDER GENERAL GREENE, IN SOUTH CAROLINA, 
WHO FELL IN THE ACTION OF SEPTEMBER 8, 1781 

At Eutaw Springs the valiant died; 

Their Hmbs with dust are covered o'er — 
Weep on, ye springs, your tearful tide; 

How many heroes are no more ! 

If in this wreck of ruin, they 

Can yet be thought to claim a tear, 
O smite your gentle breast, and say 

The friends of freedom slumber here ! 

Thou, who shalt trace this bloody plain, 
If goodness rules thy generous breast, 

Sigh for the wasted rural reign; 
Sigh for the shepherds, sunk to rest ! 

Stranger, their humble graves adorn; 

You too may fall, and ask a tear; 
'Tis not the beauty of the mom 

That proves the evening shall be clear. — 

They saw their injured country's woe; 

The flaming town, the wasted field; 
Then rushed to meet the insulting foe; 

They took the spear — but left the shield. 

Led by thy conquering genius, Greene, 

The Britons they compelled to fly; 
None distant viewed the fatal plain, 

None grieved, in such a cause to die — 

But, like the Parthian, famed of old. 

Who, flying, still their arrows threw, 
These routed Britons, full as bold, 

Retreated, and retreating slew. 



438 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

Now rest in peace, our patriot band; 

Though far from nature's limits thrown, 
We trust they find a happier land, 

A brighter sunshine of their own. 

TO SIR TOBY, A SUGAR PLANTER IN THE INTE- 
RIOR PARTS OF JAMAICA, NEAR THE CITY OF SAN 
JAGO DE LA VEGA (SPANISH TOWN), 1784 

"The motions of his spirit are black as night. 
And his affections dark as Erebus." 

— Shakespeare. 

If there exists a hell — the case is clear — 
Sir Toby's slaves enjoy that portion here: 
Here are no blazing brimstone lakes — 'tis true ; 
But kindled Rum too often burns as blue ; 
In which some fiend, whom nature must detest. 
Steeps Toby's brand, and marks poor Cudjoe's breast.* 

Here whips on whips excite perpetual fears, 
And mingled bowlings vibrate on my ears: 
Here nature's plagues abound, to fret and teaze. 
Snakes, scorpions, despots, lizards, centipees — 
No art, no care escapes the busy lash ; 
All have their dues — and all are paid in cash — 
The eternal driver keeps a steady eye 
On a black herd, who would his vengeance fly, 
But chained, imprisoned, on a burning soil. 
For the mean avarice of a tyrant, toil ! 
The lengthy cart-whip guards this monster's reign — 
And cracks, like pistols, from the fields of cane. 

Ye powers ! who formed these wretched tribes, relate, 
What had they done, to merit such a fate ! 
Why were they brought from Eboe's^ sultry waste. 
To see that plenty which they must not taste — 
Food, which they cannot buy, and dare not steal ; 

* This passage has a reference to the West India custom (sanctioned by law) 
of branding a newly imported slave on the breast, with a red hot iron, as an evi- 
dence of the purchaser's property. 

' A small negro kingdom near the river Senegal. 



PHILIP FRENEAU 439 

Yams and potatoes — many a scanty meal ! — 

One, with a gibbet wakes his negro's fears, 
One to the windmill nails him by the ears; 
One keeps his slave in darkened dens, unfed. 
One puts the wretch in pickle ere he's dead : 
This, from a tree suspends him by the thumbs, 
That, from his table grudges even the crumbs ! 

O'er yond' rough hills a tribe of females go, 
Each with her gourd, her infant, and her hoe ; 
Scorched by a sun that has no mercy here. 
Driven by a devil, whom men call overseer — 
In chains, twelve wretches to their labours haste; 
Twice twelve I saw, with iron collars graced ! ■ — 

Are such the fruits that spring from vast domains? 
Is wealth, thus got. Sir Toby, worth your pains ! — 
Who would your wealth on terms, like these, possess, 
Where all we see is pregnant with distress — 
Angola's natives scourged by ruffian hands, 
And toil's hard product shipp'd to foreign lands. 

Talk not of blossoms, and your endless spring ; 
What joy, what smile, can scenes of misery bring? — 
Though Nature, here, has every blessing spread. 
Poor is the labourer — and how meanly fed ! — 

Here Stygian paintings light and shade renew, 
Pictures of hell, that Virgil's^ pencil drew: 
Here, surly Charons make their annual trip. 
And ghosts arrive in every Guinea ship, 
To find what beasts these western isles afford, 
Plutonian scourges, and despotic lords : — 

Here, they, of stuff determined to be free, 
Must climb the rude cliffs of the Liguanee;^ 
Beyond the clouds, in sculking haste repair. 
And hardly safe from brother traitors there.^ 

' See Eneid, Book 6th. — and Fenelon's Telemachus, Book 18. 

2 The mountains northward of Kingston. 

* Alluding to the Independent negroes in the blue mountains, who, for a stipu- 
lated reward, deliver up every fugitive that falls into their hands, to the English 
Government. 



440 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

THE WILD HONEY SUCKLE 

Fair flower, that dost so comely grow, 
Hid in this silent, dull retreat. 
Untouched thy honied blossoms blow, 
Unseen thy little branches greet: 

No roving foot shall crush thee here, 

No busy hand provoke a tear. 

By Nature's self in white arrayed. 
She bade thee shun the vulgar eye, 
And planted here the guardian shade, 
And sent soft waters murmuring by; 

Thus quietly thy summer goes. 

Thy days declining to repose. 

Smit with those charms, that must decay, 

I grieve to see your future doom; 

They died — nor were those flowers more gay, 

The flowers that did in Eden bloom; 

Unpitying frosts, and Autumn's power 
Shall leave no vestige of this flower. 

From morning suns and evening dews 
At first thy Httle being came: 
If nothing once, you nothing lose, 
For when you die you are the same; 

The space between, is but an hour, 

The frail duration of a flower. 

THE DEATH SONG OF A CHEROKEE INDIAN 

The sun sets in night, and the stars shun the day, 
But glory remains when their Hghts fade away. 
Begin, ye tormentors: your threats are in vain 
For the son of Alknomock can never complain. 



PHILIP FRENEAU 44 1 

Remember the woods, where in ambush he lay, 
And the scalps which he bore from your nation away ! 
Why do ye delay ? — 'till I shrink from my pain ? 
Know the son of Alknomock can never complain. 

Remember the arrows he shot from his bow, 
Remember your chiefs by his hatchet laid low, 
The flame rises high, you exult in my pain? 
Know the son of Alknomock will never complain. 

I go to the land where my father is gone: 
His ghost shall rejoice in the fame of his son, 
Death comes like a friend, he relieves me from pain, 
And thy son, O Alknomock, has scorned to complain. 

THE INDIAN BURYING GROUND 

In spite of all the learned have said, 

I still my old opinion keep; 
The posture, that we give the dead. 

Points out the soul's eternal sleep. 

Not so the ancients of these lands — 
The Indian, when from life released. 

Again is seated with his friends, 
And shares again the joyous feast.* 

His imaged birds, and painted bowl. 
And venison, for a journey dressed. 

Bespeak the nature of the soul, 
Activity, that knows no rest. 

His bow, for action ready bent. 

And arrows, with a head of stone. 
Can only mean that life is spent, 

And not the old ideas gone. 

> The North American Indians bury their dead in a sitting posture; decorat- 
ing the corpse with wampum, the images of birds, quadrupeds, &c : And (if 
that of a warrior) with bows, arrows, tomhawks, and other mihtary weapons. 



442 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

Thou, stranger, that shalt come this way, 
No fraud upon the dead commit — 

Observe the swelHng turf, and say 
They do not lie, but here they sit. 

Here still a lofty rock remains. 

On which the curious eye may trace 

(Now wasted, half, by wearing rains) 
The fancies of a ruder race. 

Here still an aged elm aspires. 

Beneath whose far-projecting shade 

(And which the shepherd still admires) 
The children of the forest played ! 

There oft a restless Indian queen 
(Pale Shebah, with her braided hair) 

And many a barbarous form is seen 
To chide the man that lingers there. 

By midnight moons, o'er moistening dews; 

In habit for the chase arrayed, 
The hunter still the deer pursues, 

The hunter and the deer, a shade ! 

And long shall timorous fancy see 
The painted chief, and pointed spear, 

And Reason's self shall bow the knee 
To shadows and delusions here. 



TO A DOG 

[Occasioned by putting him on shore at the Island of Sapola, for theft] 

Since Nature taught you, Tray, to be a thief. 
What blame have you, for working at your trade? 
What if you stole a handsome round of beef; 
Theft, in your code of laws, no crime was made. 



PHILIP FRENEAU 443 

The ten commandments you had never read, 

Nor did it ever enter in your head: 

But art and Nature, careful to conceal, 

Disclos'd not even the Eighth — Thou shall not steal. 

Then to the green wood, caitiflF, haste away: 

There take your chance to live — for Truth must say, 

We have no right, for theft, to hang up Tray. 

ON THE SLEEP OF PLANTS 

When suns are set, and stars in view, 
Not only man to slumber yields; 
But Nature grants this blessing too. 
To yonder plants, in yonder fields. 

The Summer heats and lengthening days 
(To them the same as toil and care) 
Thrice welcome make the evening breeze, 
That kindly does their strength repair. 

At early dawn each plant survey. 
And see, revived by Nature's hand. 
With youthful vigour, fresh and gay, 
Their blossoms blow, their leaves expand. 

Yon' garden plant, with weeds o'er-run, 
Not void of thought, perceives its hour, 
And, watchful of the parting sun. 
Throughout the night conceals her flower. 

Like us, the slave of cold and heat, 

She too enjoys her little span — 

With Reason, only less complete 

Than that which makes the boast of man. 

Thus, moulded from one common clay, 

A varied life adorns the plain; 

By Nature subject to decay, 

By Nature meant to bloom again ! 



444 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

TO MY BOOK 

Seven years are now elaps'd, dear rambling volume, 

Since, to all kna\ash wights a foe, 

I sent you forth to vex and gall 'em, 

Or drive them to the shades below: 

With spirit, still, of Democratic proof. 

And still despising Shylock's canker'd hoof: 

What doom the fates intend, is hard to say, 

Whether to live to some far-distant day, 

Or sickening in your prime. 

In this bard-baiting clime, 

Take pet, make wings, say prayers, and flit away. 

"Virtue, order, and religion, 
"Haste, and seek some other region; 
"Your plan is laid, to hunt them down, 
"Destroy the mitre, rend the gown, 
"And that vile hag, Philosophy, restore" — 
Did ever volume plan so much before ? 

For seven years past, a host of busy foes 

Have buzz'd about your nose. 

White, black, and grey, by night and day; 

Garbling, lying, singing, sighing: 

These eastern gales a cloud of insects bring 

That fluttering, snivelling, whimpering — on the wing - 

And, wafted still as discord's demon guides, 

Flock round the flame, that yet shall singe their hides. 

Well ! let the fates decree whate'er they please : 
Whether you're doom'd to drink oblivion's cup, 
Or Praise- God Barebones eats you up, 
This I can say, you've spread your wings afar, 
Hostile to garter, ribbon, crown, and star; 
Still on the people's, still on Freedom's side. 
With full determin'd aim, to baffle every claim 
Of well-born wights, that aim to mount and ride. 



PHILIP FRENEAU 445 

TO A CATY-DID^ 

In a branch of willow hid 
Sings the evening Caty-did: 
From the lofty locust bough 
Feeding on a drop of dew, 
In her suit of green array'd 
Hear her singing in the shade 

Caty-did, Caty-did, Caty-did! 

While upon a leaf you tread, 
Or repose your little head. 
On your sheet of shadows laid. 
All the day you nothing said : 
Half the night your cheery tongue 
Revell'd out its little song, 

Nothing else but Caty-did. 

From your lodgings on the leaf 
Did you utter joy or grief — ? 
Did you only mean to say, 
I have had my summer's day, 
And am passing, soon, away 
To the grave of Caty-did : — 

Poor, unhappy Caty-did ! 

But you would have utter 'd more 
Had you known of nature's power — 
From the world when you retreat. 
And a leaf's your winding sheet, 
Long before your spirit fled, 
Who can tell but nature said, 
Live again, my Caty-did ! 

Live, and chatter Caty-did. 

^ A well-known insect, when full grown, about two inches in length, and of 
the exact color of a green leaf. It is of the genus cicada, or grasshopper kind, 
inhabiting the green foliage of trees and singing such a song as Caty-did in 
the evening, towards autumn. 



446 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

Tell me, what did Caty do ? 
Did she mean to trouble you ? — 
Why was Caty not forbid 
To trouble little Caty-did? — 
Wrong, indeed at you to fling, 
Hurting no one while you sing 

Caty-did! Caty-did! Caty-did: 

Why continue to complain? 
Caty tells me, she again 
Will not give you plague or pain : — 
Caty says you may be hid 
Caty will not go to bed 
While you sing us Caty-did. 

Caty-did ! Caty-did ! Caty-did I 

But, while singing, you forgot 
To tell us what did Caty not: 
Caty-did not think of cold, 
Flocks retiring to the fold. 
Winter, with his wrinkles old. 
Winter, that yourself foretold 

When you gave us Caty-did. 

Stay securely in your nest; 
Caty now, will do her best. 
All she can, to make you blest; 
But, you want no human aid — 
Nature, when she form'd you, said, 
"Independent you are made, 
My dear Httle Caty-did : 
Soon yourself must disappear 
With the verdure of the year," — 
And to go, we know not where. 

With your song of Caty-did. 



F HI LIP FRENEAU 447 

ON A HONEY BEE DRINKING FROM A GLASS OF 
WINE AND DROWNED THEREIN 

Thou, born to sip the lake or spring, 
Or quaff the waters of the stream, 
Why hither come on vagrant wing ? — 
Does Bacchus tempting seem — 
Did he, for you, this glass prepare ? — 
Will I admit you to a share? 

Did storms harass or foes perplex, 

Did wasps or king-birds bring dismay — 

Did wars distress, or labours vex, 

Or did you miss your way ? — 

A better seat you could not take 

Than on the margin of this lake. 

Welcome ! — I hail you to my glass : 
All welcome, here, you find ; 
Here, let the cloud of trouble pass, 
Here, be all care resigned. — 
This fluid never fails to please. 
And drown the griefs of men or bees. 

What forced you here, we cannot know, 

And you will scarcely tell — 

But cheery we would have you go 

And bid a glad farewell: 

On lighter wings we bid you fly. 

Your dart will now all foes defy. 

Yet take not, oh ! too deep to drink. 

And in this ocean die; 

Here bigger bees than you might sink, 

Even bees full six feet high. 

Like Pharoah, then, you would be said 

To perish in a sea of red. 



448 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

Do as you please, your will is mine ; 

Enjoy it without fear — 

And your grave will be this glass of wine, 

Your epitaph — a tear — 

Go, take your seat in Charon's boat, 

We'll tell the hive, you died afloat. 



MINOR POEMS OF THE REVOLUTION 

[The songs, ballads, and fugitive poems of the Revolution form an inter- 
esting collection, though few of them are of especial literary worth. Even 
the best American national songs produced in the succeeding century are 
not ranked by impartial critics among the great patriotic poetry of the world ; 
and it is natural that these songs of the Revolution, written when popular 
taste favored the artificial and the bombastic, should be mediocre in quality. 
Among the more important classes of poems produced at this time are modi- 
fications or parodies of popular songs, rude ballads narrating occurrences of 
the conflict, and lyrics intended to intensify feeling. Work of all these kinds 
varied in tone from the most seriously impassioned to broad and often coarse 
burlesque. An interesting phenomenon was the acceptance by one party 
of the excessive burlesques of the other, as in the numerous versions of 
"Yankee Doodle." As the Tories included in their number many of the 
most cultured men of the country, their songs and occasional poems were 
often more finished than those of their opponents. The loyalist poetry has, 
however, been less carefully preserved ; and as it was largely in the formal 
manner preferred by an eighteenth-century gentleman it is somewhat less 
interesting than the rough and ready verse of the patriots. The selections 
given below show various forms of this popular poetry. "The Liberty Song," 
by John Dickinson, resulted from an attempt, on the part of a publicist who 
had neither the poetic temperament nor skill in versification, to manufacture 
a patriotic song. "The American Hero," called by its author "A Sapphic 
Ode," was the work of a scholarly minister and theologian. Loyalist 
poetry is represented by an anonymous song, " The British Light-Infantry," 
and a selection from "The Congratulation," by Dr. Jonathan Odell. "The 
Yankee's Return from Camp" is perhaps the best-known version of the 
"Yankee Doodle" song. The other anonymous poems illustrate various 
kinds of popular songs. The ballad of "Nathan Hale" has, in parts, a real 
poetic quality. 

"The British Light-Infantry" is from "The Loyalist Poetry of the Revo- 
lution," edited by Winthrop Sargent. The selection from "The Con- 
gratulation" is from the same editor's collection, "The Loyal Verses of 
Joseph Stansbury and Doctor Jonathan Odell." "The Yankee's Return 
from Camp" follows a broadside issued by Isaiah Thomas in 1813, as 
reprinted in Duyckinck's "Cyclopaedia of American Literature." "The 
American Hero " is also copied from the last-named source. The other se- 
lections are taken from Moore's "Songs and Ballads of the American Revo- 
lution."] 

2 G 449 



450 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

THE LIBERTY SONG 

[By John Dickinson. 1768] 

Come join hand in hand, brave Americans all, 
And rouse your bold hearts at fair Liberty's call; 
No tyrannous acts, shall suppress your just claim, 
Nor stain with dishonor America's name. 

In freedom we're born, and in freedom we'll live; 
Our purses are ready, 
Steady, Friends, steady, 
Not as slaves, but as, freemen our money we'll give. 

Our worthy forefathers — let's give them a cheer — 
To climates unknown did courageously steer; 
Thro' oceans to deserts, for freedom they came, 
And, dying, bequeath 'd us their freedom and fame. 

Their generous bosoms all dangers despis'd, 
So highly, so wisely, their birthrights they priz'd; 
We'll keep what they gave, we will piously keep, 
Nor frustrate their toils on the land or the deep. 

The Tree, their own hands had to Liberty rear'd. 
They lived to behold growing strong and rever'd; 
With transport then cried, — "Now our wishes we gain, 
For our children shall gather the fruits of our pain." 

How sweet are the labors that freemen endure, 
That they shall enjoy all the profit, secure, — 
No more such sweet labors Americans know, 
If Britons shall reap what Americans sow. 

Swarms of placemen and pensioners soon will appear, 
Like locusts deforming the charms of the year: 
Suns vainly will rise, showers vainly descend, 
If we are to drudge for what others shall spend. 



MINOR POEMS OF THE REVOLUTION 451 

Then join hand in hand brave Americans all, 
By uniting we stand, by dividing we fall; 
In so righteous a cause let us hope to succeed, 
For Heaven approves of each generous deed. 

All ages shall speak with amaze and applause. 
Of the courage we'll show in support of our laws; 
To die we can bear, — but to serve we disdain. 
For shame is to freemen more dreadful than pain. 

This bumper I crown for our sovereign's health, 
And this for Britannia's glory and wealth; 
That wealth, and that glory immortal may be, 
If she is but just, and we are but free. 
In freedom we're born, &c. 

VIRGINIA BANISHING TEA 

[By a young woman of Virginia. 1774] 

Begone, pernicious, baneful tea. 

With all Pandora's ills possessed, 
Hyson, no more beguiled by thee 

My noble sons shall be oppressed. 

To Britain fly, where gold enslaves. 

And venal men their birth-right sell; 
Tell North and his bribed clan of knaves. 

Their bloody acts were made in hell. 

In Henry's reign those acts began, 

Which sacred rules of justice broke 
North now pursues the hellish plan, 

To fix on us his slavish yoke. 

But we oppose, and will be free, 

This great good cause we vAW defend; 

Nor bribe, nor Gage, nor North's decree, 
Shall make us "at his feet to bend." 



452 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

From Anglia's ancient sons we came; 

Those heroes who for freedom fought; 
In freedom's cause we'll march ; their fame, 

By their example greatly taught. 

Our king we love, but North we hate, 
Nor will to him submission own; 

If death's our doom, we'll brave our fate, 
But pay allegiance to the throne. 

Then rouse, my sons ! from slavery free 

Your suffering homes; from God's high wrath; 

Gird on your steel; give liberty 
To all who follow in our path. 

THE PENNSYLVANIA SONG 

[1775] 

We are the troop that ne'er will stoop 

To wretched slavery, 
Nor shall our seed, by our base deed 

Despised vassals be; 
Freedom we will bequeathe to them, 

Or we will bravely die; 
Our greatest foe, ere long shall know, 
How much did Sandvidch lie. 

And all the world shall know, 

Americans are free; 
Nor slaves nor cowards we will prove. 
Great Britain soon shall see. 

We'll not give up our birthright. 

Our foes shall find us men; 
As good as they, in any shape, 

The British troops shall ken. 
Huzza ! brave boys, we'll beat them 

On any hostile plain; 



MINOR POEMS OF THE REVOLUTION 453 

For freedom, wives, and children dear 
The battle we'll maintain. 

What ! can those British tyrants think, 

Our fathers cross'd the main, 
And savage foes, and dangers met, 

To be enslav'd by them? 
If so, they are mistaken, 

For we will rather die; 
And since they have become our foes. 
Their forces we defy. 

And all the world shall know, 

Americans are free, 
Nor slaves nor cowards we will prove, 
Great Britain soon shall see. 

THE AMERICAN HERO 

[By Nathaniel Niles. 1775] 

Why should vain mortals tremble at the sight of 
Death and destruction in the field of battle. 
Where blood and carnage clothe the ground in crimson. 
Sounding with death-groans? 

Death will invade us by the means appointed. 
And we must all bow to the king of terrors; 
Nor am I anxious, if I am prepared, 
What shape he comes in. 

Infinite Goodness teaches us submission. 
Bids us be quiet under all his dealings; 
Never repining, but forever praising 
God, our Creator. 

Well may we praise him: all his ways are perfect: 
Though a resplendence, infinitely glowing, 
Dazzles in glory on the sight of mortals. 
Struck blind by lustre. 



454 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

Good is Jehovah in bestowing sunshine, 
Nor less his goodness in the storm and thunder, 
Mercies and judgment both proceed from kindness, 
Infinite kindness. 



O, then, exult that God forever reigneth ; 
Clouds which, around him, hinder our perception; 
Bind us the stronger to exalt his name, and 
Shout louder praises. 

Then to the wisdom of my Lord and Master 
I will commit all that I have or wish for. 
Sweetly as babes' sleep will I give my life up, 
When call'd to yield it. 

Now, Mars, I dare thee, clad in smoky pillars. 
Bursting from bomb-shells, roaring from the cannon, 
Rattling in grape-shot like a storm of hailstones. 
Torturing ether. 

Up the bleak heavens let the spreading flames rise, 
Breaking, like ^tna, through the smoky columns, 
Lowering, like Egypt, o'er the falling city, 
Wantonly burned down.^ 

While all their hearts quick palpitate for havoc. 
Let slip your blood-hounds, nam'd the British lions; 
Dauntless as death stares, nimble as the whirl-wind. 
Dreadful as demons ! 

Let oceans waft on all your floating castles, 
Fraught vdth destruction, horrible to nature; 
Then, with your sails fill'd by a storm of vengeance, 
Bear down to battle. 

^ Charlestown, near Boston. 



MINOR POEMS OF THE REVOLUTION 455 

From the dire caverns, made by ghostly miners, 
Let the explosion, dreadful as volcanoes, 
Heave the broad town, with all its wealth and people, 
Quick to destruction. 

Still shall the banner of the King of Heaven 
Never advance where I am afraid to follow: 
While that precedes me, with' an open bosom, 
War, I defy thee. 

Fame and dear freedom lure me on to battle, 
While a fell despot, grimmer than a death's-head, 
Stings me with serpents, fiercer than Medusa's, 
To the encounter. 

Life, for my country and the cause of freedom, 
Is but a trifle for a worm to part with ; 
And, if preserved in so great a contest, 
Life is redoubled. 



THE YANKEE'S RETURN FROM CAMP 

[Cir. 1775] 

Father and I went down to camp, 

Along ^vith Captain Gooding, 
And there we see the men and boys. 
As thick as hasty pudding. 

Chorus — Yankee Doodle, keep it up, 
Yankee Doodle, dandy. 
Mind the music and the step, 
And with the girls be handy. 

And there we see a thousand men. 

As rich as 'Squire Da^dd; 
And what they wasted every day, 

I wish it could be saved. 



456 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

The 'lasses they eat every day, 
Would keep an house a winter; 

They have as much that, I'll be bound, 
They eat it when they're a mind to. 

And there we see a swamping gun, 
Large as a log of maple. 

Upon a deuced little cart, 
A load for father's cattle. 

And every time they shoot it oflf, 
It takes a horn of powder, 

And makes a noise like father's gun, 
Only a nation louder. 

I went as nigh to one myself, 

As Siah's underpinning; 
And father went as nigh again, 

I thought the deuce was in him. 

Cousin Simon grew so bold, 

I thought he would have cock'd it; 

It scar'd me so, I shrink'd it off, 
And hung by father's pocket. 

And Captain Davis had a gun. 
He kind of clapt his hand on't, 

And stuck a crooked stabbing iron 
Upon the little end on't. 

And there I see a pumpkin shell 
As big as mother's bason; 

And every time they touch 'd it off, 
They scamper'd like the nation. 

I see a little barrel too, 

The heads were made of leather. 

They knock'd upon't with little clubs, 
And call'd the folks together. 



MINOR POEMS OF THE REVOLUTION 457 

And there was Captain Washington, 

And gentlefolks about him, 
They say he's grown so tarnal proud, 

He will not ride without 'em. 

He got him on his meeting clothes, 

Upon a slapping stallion, 
He set the world along in rows, 

In hundreds and in millions. 

The flaming ribbons in his hat, 

They look'd so taring fine ah, 
I wanted pockily to get. 

To give to my Jemimah. 

I see another snarl of men 

A digging graves, they told me, 
So tarnal long, so tarnal deep, 

They 'tended they should hold me. 

It scar'd me so, I hook'd it oflf. 

Nor stop'd, as I remember. 
Nor turn'd about, 'till I got home, 

Lock'd up in mother's chamber. 



NATHAN HALE 
[1776] 

The breezes went steadily thro' the tall pines, 

A sajdng "oh! hu-ush!" a saying "oh! hu-ush!" 

As stilly stole by a bold legion of horse. 
For Hale in the bush, for Hale in the bush. 

"Keep still!" said the thrush as she nestled her young, 
In a nest by the road ; in a nest by the road. 

"For the tyrants are near, and with them appear. 
What bodes us no good; what bodes us no good." 



458 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

The brave captain heard it, and thought of his home, 
In a cot by the brook ; in a cot by the brook. 

With mother and sister and memories dear, 
He so gaily forsook; he so gaily forsook. 

Cooling shades of the night were coming apace, 

The tattoo had beat; the tattoo had beat. 
The noble one sprang from his dark lurking place, 

To make his retreat; to make his retreat. 

He warily trod on the dry rustling leaves, 

As he pass'd thro' the wood; as he pass'd thro' the wood; 
And silently gain'd his rude launch on the shore. 

As she play'd vdth the flood; as she play'd with the flood. 

The guards of the camp, on that dark, dreary night. 
Had a murderous will; had a murderous will. 

They took him and bore him afar from the shore, 
To a hut on the hill; to a hut on the hill. 

No mother was there, nor a friend who could cheer, 
In that little stone cell; in that Httle stone cell. 

But he trusted in love, from his father above. 

In his heart, all was well ; in his heart, all was well. 

An ominous owl with his solemn base voice. 
Sat moaning hard by; sat moaning hard by. 

"The tyrant's proud minions most gladly rejoice, 
"For he must soon die; for he must soon die." 

The brave fellow told them, no thing he restrain'd. 

The cruel gen'ral; the cruel gen'ral. 
His errand from camp, of the ends to be gain'd, 

And said that Vv^as all; and said that was all. 

They took him and bound him and bore him away, 
Down the hill's grassy side; down the hill's grassy side. 

'Twas there the base hirelings, in royal array, 
His cause did deride; his cause did deride. 



MINOR POEMS OF THE REVOLUTION 459 

Five minutes were given, short moments, no more, 

For him to repent; for him to repent; 
He pray'd for his mother, he ask'd not another, 

To Heaven he went; to Heaven he went. 

The faith of a martyr, the tragedy shew'd. 
As he trod the last stage; as he trod the last stage. 

And Britons will shudder at gallant Hale's blood. 
As his words do presage, as his words do presage. 

"Thou pale king of terrors, thou life's gloomy foe, 
Go frighten the slave, go frighten the slave; 

Tell tyrants, to you, their allegiance they owe. 
No fears for the brave; no fears for the brave." 

THE BRITISH LIGHT-INFANTRY 

[1778] 

Hark ! hark ! the bugle's lofty sound, 
Which makes the woods and rocks around 

Repeat the martial strain. 
Proclaims the Ught-arm^d British troops 
Advance Behold, rebellion droops; 

She hears the sound vdth pain. 

She sees their glitt'ring arms v^th fear; 
Their nodding plumes approaching near; 

Her gorgon head she hides. 
She flees, in vain, to shun such foes, 
For Wayne, or hapless Baylor knows 

How swift their vengeance glides. 

The nimble messenger of Jove 
On earth alights not from above 

With step so light as theirs: 
Hence, have they feathered caps, and wings, 
And weapons which have keener stings 

Than that gay Hermes bears. 



460 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

A myrtle garland, with the vine, 
Venus and Bacchus shall entwine, 

About their brows to place; 
As types of love and joy, beneath 
The well-earn'd, budding laurel-wreath 

Which shades each hero's face. 



D'ESTAING'S DISASTER 

[From "The Congratulation," by Dr. Jonathan Odell, 1779] 

Joy to great Congress, joy an hundred fold: 
The grand cajolers are themselves cajol'd ! 
In vain has [Frankhn's] artifice been tried, 
And Louis swell'd with treachery and pride: 
Who reigns supreme in heav'n deception spurns, 
And on the author's head the mischief turns. 
What pains were taken to procure D'Estaing! 
His fleet's dispers'd, and Congress may go hang. 

Joy to great Congress, joy an hundred fold: 

The grand cajolers are themselves cajol'd ! 

Heav'ns King sends forth the hurricane and strips 

Of all their glory the perfidious ships. 

His Ministers of Wrath the storm direct; 

Nor can the Prince of Air his French protect. 

Saint George, Saint David show'd themselves true hearts; 

Saint Andrew and Saint Patrick topp'd their parts. 

With right Eolian puffs the wind they blew; 

Crack went the masts; the sails to shivers flew. 

Such honest saints shall never be forgot; 

Saint Dennis, and Saint Tammany, go rot. 

Joy to great Congress, joy an hundred fold; 
The grand cajolers are themselves cajol'd ! 
Old Satan holds a council in mid-air; 
Hear the black Dragon furious rage and swear — 



MINOR POEMS OF THE REVOLUTION 46 1 

— Are these the triumphs of my Gallic friends? 



How will you ward this blow, my trusty fiends? 

What remedy for this unlucky job ? 

What art shall raise the spirits of the mob? 

Fly swift, ye sure supporters of my realm, 

Ere this ill-news the rebels overwhelm. 

Invent, say any thing to make them mad; 

Tell them the King — No, Dev'ls are not so bad; 

The dogs of Congress at the King let loose; 

But ye, brave Dev'ls, avoid such mean abuse. 

Joy to great Congress, joy an hundred fold: 
The grand cajolers are themselves cajol'd ! 
What thinks Sir Washington of this mischance; 
Blames he not those, who put their trust in France? 
A broken reed comes pat into his mind: 
Egypt and France by rushes are defin'd. 
Basest of Kingdoms underneath the skies, 
Kingdoms that could not profit their allies. 
How could the tempest play him such a prank ? 
Blank is his prospect, and his visage blank : 
Why from West-Point his armies has he brought? 
Can nought be done ? — sore sighs he at the thought. 
Back to his mountains Washington may trot: 
He take this city — yes, when Ice is hot. 



VOLUNTEER BOYS 

[By Henry Archer (?). 1780] 

Hence with the lover who sighs o'er his wine, 

Cloes and Phillises toasting. 
Hence with the slave who will whimper and whine, 
Of ardor and constancy boasting. 
Hence with love's joys. 
Follies and noise, 
The toast that I give is the Volunteer Boys. 



462 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

Nobles and beauties and such common toasts, 

Those who admire may drink, sir; 
Fill up the glass to the volunteer hosts, 

Who never from danger will shrink, sir. 
Let mirth appear, 
Every heart cheer, 
The toast that I give is the brave volunteer. 

Here's to the squire who goes to parade 

Here's to the citizen soldier; 
Here's to the merchant who fights for his trade, 
Whom danger increasing makes bolder. 
Let mirth appear, 
Union is here, 
The toast that I give is the brave volunteer. 

Here's to the lawyer, who, leaving the bar. 

Hastens where honor doth lead, sir, 
Changing the gown for the ensigns of war, 
The cause of his country to plead, sir. 
Freedom appears. 
Every heart cheers, 
And calls for the health of the law volunteers. 

• Here's to the soldier, though batter'd in wars. 
And safe to his farm-house retir'd; 
When called by his country, ne'er thinks of his scars, 
With ardor to join us inspir'd. 
Bright fame appears, 
Trophies uprear. 
To veteran chiefs who became volunteers. 

Here's to the farmer who dares to advance 
To harvests of honor with pleasure; 

Who with a slave the most skilful in France, 
A sword for his country would measure. 



MINOR POEMS OF THE REVOLUTION 463 

Hence with cold fear, 
Heroes rise here; 
The ploughman is chang'd to the stout volunteer. 

Here's to the peer, first in senate and field, 
Whose actions to titles add grace, sir; 
Whose spirit undaunted would never yet yield 
To a foe, to a pension or place, sir. 
Gratitude here, 
Toasts to the peer. 
Who adds to his titles, "the brave volunteer." 

Thus the bold bands for old Jersey's defence, 
The muse hath with rapture review'd, sir; 
With our volunteer boys, as our verses commence, 
With our volunteer boys they conclude, sir. 
Discord or noise. 
Ne'er damp our joys, 
But health and success to the volunteer boys. 

THE DANCE 

[1781] 

Comwallis led a country dance, 

The like was never seen, sir, 
Much retrograde and much advance, 

And all vdth General Greene, sir. 

They rambled up and rambled down, 

Join'd hands, then ofif they run, sir, 
Our General Greene to Charlestown, 

The earl to Wilmington, sir. 

Greene, in the South, then danc'd a set. 

And got a mighty name, sir, 
Comwallis jigg'd vdth young Fayette, 

But suffer'd in his fame, sir. 



464 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

Then down he figur'd to the shore, 

Most like a lordly dancer, 
And on his courtly honor swore. 

He would no more advance, sir. 

Quoth he, my guards are weary grown 
With footing country dances. 

They never at St. James's shone, 
At capers, kicks or prances. 

Though men so gallant ne'er were seen, 
While sauntering on parade, sir, 

Or wriggling o'er the park's smooth green, 
Or at a masquerade, sir. 

Yet are red heels and long-lac'd skirts. 
For stumps and briars meet, sir? 

Or stand they chance with hunting-shirts, 
Or hardy veteran feet, sir? 

Now hous'd in York he challeng'd all, 

At minuet or all 'amande, 
And lessons for a courtly ball, 

His guards by day and night conn'd. 

This challenge known, full soon there came, 

A set who had the bon ton, 
De Grasse and Rochambeau, whose fame 

Fut brillant pour un long tems. 

And Washington, Columbia's son, 
Whom easy nature taught, sir, 

That grace which can't by pains be won, 
Or Plutus' gold be bought, sir. 

Now hand in hand they circle round. 

This ever-dancing peer, sir; 
Their gentle movements, soon confound 

The earl, as they draw near, sir. 



MINOR POEMS OF THE REVOLUTION 465 

His music soon forgets to play — 

His feet can no more move, sir, 
And all his bands now curse the day, 

They jigged to our shore, sir. 

Now Tories all, what can ye say? 

Come — is not this a griper. 
That while your hopes are danc'd away, 

'Tis you must pay the piper. 



HUGH HENRY BRACKENRIDGE 

[Hugh Henry Erackenridge is notable as the author of the most popular 
book produced west of the Alleghanies before 1800. He was born in Scot- 
land in 1748, but came to America when a boy. His family were in poor 
financial circumstances, but, largely through his own exertions, he was 
graduated from Princeton in 1771. His collaboration with his classmate 
Freneau in a commencement poem has already been mentioned. After his 
graduation he taught school, edited a magazine, studied divinity, and served 
as chaplain in the continental army. During this period he wrote a few pop- 
ular patriotic poems, and delivered some patriotic sermons that were thought 
worthy of being published. Before the close of the war he turned to the 
study of law, and in 1781 he removed to Pittsburg. Here he became active 
in public affairs, and was perhaps unfortunately prominent in connection 
with the "Whiskey Insurrection" of 1794. The next year he published a 
long and elaborate "Vindication" of his conduct in connection with this 
affair. His most important work was "Modern Chivalry; containing the 
Adventures of a Captain and Teague O'Regan, his servant." The first part 
of this picturesque satire appeared in 1796, and the less important second 
part in 1806. The book is a western Don Quixote, and burlesques with 
western freedom, and in a manner that shows the western point of view, many 
political and social customs of the country. 

The selections are from the Philadelphia edition of 1804.] 

AN ANSWER TO A CHALLENGE 

[From "Modern Chivalry"] 

On reflection, it seemed advisable to the Captain to write an 
answer to the card which Colonel or Major Jacko, or whatever 
his title may have been, had sent him this morning. It was as 
follows : 

Sm, 

I have two objections to this duel matter. The one is, lest 
I should hurt you; and the other is, lest you should hurt me. 
I do not see any good it would do me to put a bullet through any 
part of your body. I could make no use of you when dead, 
for any culinary purpose, as I would a rabbit or a turkey. I am 
no cannibal to feed on the flesh of men. Why then shoot down 

466 



HUGH HENRY BRACKENRIDCE 467 

a human creature, of which I could make no use? A buflfaloe 
would be better meat. For though your flesh might be delicate 
and tender; yet it wants that firmness and consistency which 
takes and retains salt. At any rate it would not be fit for long sea 
voyages. You might make a good barbecue, it is true, being of 
the nature of a racoon or an opossum; but people are not in the 
habit of barbecuing any thing human now. As to your hide, it 
is not worth the taking off, being little better than that of a year 
old colt. 

It would seem to me a strange thing to shoot at a man that would 
stand still to be shot at; in as much as I have been heretofore 
used to shoot at things flying, or running, or jumping. Were you 
on a tree, now, Kke a squirrel, endeavouring to hide yourself in 
the branches, or like a racoon, that after much eying and spying 
I observe at length in the crotch of a tall oak, with boughs and 
leaves intervening, so that I could just get a sight of his hinder 
parts, I should think it pleasurable enough to take a shot at you. 
But as it is, there is no skill or judgment requisite either to dis- 
cover or take you down. 

As to myself, I do not much like to stand in the way of any 
thing that is harmful. I am under apprehensions you might hit 
me. That being the case, I think it most advisable to stay at 
a distance. If you want to try your pistols, take some object, 
a tree or a barn door about my dimensions. If you hit that, send 
me word, and I shall acknowledge that if I had been in the same 
place, you might also have hit me. 

J. F. 

TREATING WITH THE INDIANS 

[From "Modern Chivalry"] 

Not long after this, being at a certain place, the Captain was 
accosted by a stranger in the following manner: Captain, said he, 
I have heard of a young man in your service who talks Irish. Now, 
Sir, my business is that of an Indian treaty-maker; and am on 
my way with a party of kings, and half-kings to the commissioners, 
to hold a treaty. My king of the Kickapoos, who was a Welsh 
blacksmith, took sick by the way, and is dead: I have heard of 



468 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

this lad of yours and could wish to have him a while to supply 
his place. The treaty will not last longer than a couple of weeks; 
and as the government will probably allow three or four thousand 
dollars for the treaty, it will be in our power to make it worth your 
while, to spare him for that time. Your king of the Kickapoos, 
said the Captain; what does that mean? Said the stranger. It 
is just this: you have heard of the Indian nations to the west- 
ward, that occasionally make war upon the frontier settlements. 
It has been a policy of government, to treat with these, and dis- 
tribute goods. Commissioners are appointed for that purpose. 
Now you are not to suppose that it is always an easy matter to 
catch a real chief, and bring him from the woods; or if at some 
expense one was brought, the goods would go to his use ; whereas, 
it is much more profitable to hire substitutes and make chiefs 
of our own: And as some unl^^nown gibberish is necessary, to 
pass for an Indian language, we generally make use of Welch, 
or Low Dutch, or Irish; or pick up an ingenious fellow here 
and there, who can imitate a language by sounds of his own, 
in his mouth, and throat. But we prefer one who can speak a 
real tongue, and give more for him. We cannot afford you a great 
deal at this time for the use of your man; because it is not a 
general treaty where 20,000, or 30,000 dollars are appropriated for 
the purpose of holding it; but an occasional, or what we call 
a running treaty, by way of brightening the chain, and holding 
fast friendship. The commissioners will doubtless be glad to 
see us, and procure from government an allowance for the treaty. 
For the more treaties, the more use for commissioners. The busi- 
ness must be kept up, and treaties made if there are none of them- 
selves. My Pianksha, and Choctaw chiefs, are very good fellows ; 
the one of them a Scotch pedlar that talks the Erse ; the other has 
been some time in Canada, and has a little broken Indian, God 
knows what language; but has been of great service in assisting 
to teach the rest some Indian custom and manners. I have had 
the whole of them for a fortnight past under my tuition, teaching 
them war songs and dances, and to make responses at the treaty. 
If your man is tractable, I can make him a Kickapoo in about 
nine days. A breech-clout, and leggins, that I took off the black- 
smith that died, I have ready to put on him. He must have part 



HUGH HENRY BRACKENRIDGE 469 

of his head shaved, and painted, with feathers on his crown; 
but the paint will rub off, and the hair grow in a short time, so 
that he can go about with you again. 

It is a very strange affair, said the Captain. Is it possible that 
such deception can be practised in a new country. It astonishes 
me, that the government does not detect such imposition. The 
government, said the Indian treaty- man, is at a great distance. 
It knows no more of Indians than a cow does of Greek. The 
legislature, hears of wars and rumours of wars, and supports the 
executive in forming treaties. How is it possible for men who 
live remote from the scene of action, to have adequate ideas of 
the nature of Indians, or the transactions that are carried on in 
their behalf? Do you think the one half of those savages that 
come to treat, are real representatives of the nation? Many of 
them are not savages at all ; but weavers, and pedlars, as I have 
told you, picked up to make kings and chiefs. I speak of those 
particularly that come trading down to inland towns, or the me- 
tropoHs. I would not communicate these mysteries of our trade, 
were it not that I confide in your good sense, and have occasion 
for your servant. 

It is a mystery of iniquity, said the Captain. Do you suppose 
that I would countenance such a fraud upon the pubUc? I do 
not know, said the other; it is a very common thing for men to 
speculate, nowadays. If you will not, another will. A hundred 
dollars might as well be in your pocket as another man's. I will 
give you that for the use of your servant, for a week or two, and 
say no more about it. It is an idea new to me entirely, said the 
Captain, that Indian princes, whom I have seen escorted down as 
such, were no more than trumpery, disguised, as you mention; 
that such should be introduced to polite assemblies, and have 
the honour to salute the fair ladies with a kiss, the greatest beauties 
thinking themselves honoured by having the salu[ta]tion of a 
sovereign ? It is so, said the other ; I had a red headed bricklayer 
once, whom I passed for a Chippawaw; and who has dined with 
clubs, and sat next the President. He was bhnd of an eye, and 
was called blind Sam by the traders. I had given it out that he 
was a great warrior, and had lost his eye by an arrow, in a contest 
with a rival nation. These things are now reduced to a system; 



470 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

and it is so well known to those who are engaged in the traffic, 
that we think nothing of it. 

How the devil, said the Captain, do you get speeches made, 
and interpret them so as to pass for truth. That is an easy matter, 
said the other; Indian speeches are nearly all alike. You have 
only to talk of burying hatche[t]s under large trees, kindling fires, 
brightening chains ; with a demand, at the latter end, of blankets 
for the backside, and rum to get drunk with. 

I much doubt, said the Captain, whether treaties that are carried 
on in earnest, are of any great use. Of none at all, said the other ; 
especially as the practice of giving goods prevails; because this 
is an inducement to a fresh war. This being the case, it can be 
no harm to make a farce of the whole matter; or rather a profit 
of it; by such means as I propose to you, and have pursued 
myself. 

After all, said the Captain, I cannot but consider it as a kind 
of contraband and illicit traffic ; and I must be excused from having 
any hand in it, I shall not betray your secret, but I shall not favour 
it. It would ill become me, whose object in riding about in 
this manner, is to give just ideas on subjects, to take part in such 
ill-gotten gain. 

The Indian treaty-man finding it vain to say more, withdrew. 

The Captain apprehending that he might not yet drop his designs 
upon the Irishman, but be tampering with him out of doors, 
should he come across him, sent for Teague. For he well knew, 
that should the Indian treaty-man get the first word of him, the 
idea of making him a king, would turn his head, and it would be 
impossible to prevent his going vfith. him. 

Teague coming in, said the Captain to him; Teague, I have 
discovered in you, for some time past, a. great spirit of ambition, 
which is, doubtless, commendable in a young person ; and I have 
checked it only in cases where there was real danger, or apparent 
mischief. There is now an opportunity of advancing yourself, 
not so much in the way of honour as profit. But profit brings 
honour, and is, indeed, the most substantial support of it. There 
has been a man here with me, that carries on a trade with the 
Indians, and tells me that red-headed scalps are in great demand 



HUGH HENRY BRACKEN RIDGE 471 

with them. If you could spare yours, he would give a good price 
for it. I do not well know what use they make of this article, 
but so it is, the traders find their account in it. Probably they 
dress it with the hairy side out, and make tobacco-pouches for 
the chiefs, when they meet in council. It saves dyeing, and besides, 
the natural red hair of a man, may, in their estimation, be superior 
to any colour they can give by art. The taking off the scalp will 
not give much pain, it is so dextrously done by them with a crooked 
knife they have for that purpose. The mode of taking ofif the 
scalp is this; you lie down upon your back; a warrior puts his 
feet upon your shoulders, collects your hair in his left hand, and 
drawing a circle with a knife in his right, makes the incision, and, 
with a sudden pull, separates it from the head, giving, in the mean 
time, what is called the scalp yell. The thing is done in such an 
instant, that the pain is scarcely felt. He offered me an hundred 
dollars, if I would have it taken off for his use, giving me directions, 
in the mean time, how to stretch it and dry it on a hoop. I told 
him. No ; it was a perquisite of your own, and you might dispose 
of it as you thought proper. If you choose to dispose of it, I had 
no objections; but the bargain should be of your own making, 
and the price such as should please yourself. I have sent for you, 
to give you a hint of this chapman, that you may have a knowledge 
of his wish to possess the property, and ask accordingly. It is 
probable you may bring him up to a half Johannes more, by 
holding out a Httle. But I do not think it would be adviseable 
to lose the bargain. An hundred dollars for a little hairy flesh, 
is a great deal. You will trot a long time before you make that 
with me. He will be with you probably to propose the purchase. 
You will know when you see him. He is a tall looking man, with 
leggins on, and has several Indians Tvith him going to a treaty. 
He talked to me something of making you a king of the Kickapoos, 
after the scalp is off; but I would not count on that so much; 
because words are but wind, and promises are easily broken. I 
would advise you to make sure of the money in the first place, 
and take chance for the rest. 

I have seen among the prints of Hogarth, some such expression 
of countenance as that of Teague at this instant ; who, as soon as 
he could speak, but with a double brogue on his tongue, began to 



472 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

intimate his disinclination to the traffic. The hair of his scalp 
itself, in the mean time had risen in opposition to it. Dear mas- 
ter, vid you trow me into ridicule, and the blessed shalvation of 
my life, and all dat I have in the vorld, to be trown like a dog to 
de savages, and have my flesh tarn of my head to give to dese vild 
bastes to make a napsack to carry their parates and tings in, for 
an hundred dollars or the like. It shall never be said that the 
hair of the Oregans made mackeseens for a vild Indian to trat 
upon. I would sooner trow my own head, hair, and all in de fire, 
dan give it to dese paple to smoke wid, out of deir long pipes. 

If this be your determination, said the Captain, it will behove 
you to keep yourself somewhat close; and while we remain at this 
public house, avoid any conversation with the chapman or his 
agents, should they come to tamper with you. For it is not im- 
probable, while they are keeping you in talk, proposing to make 
you a Kickapoo chief, and the like, they may snatch the scalp off 
your head, and you not be the wiser for it. 

Teague thought the caution good, and resolving to abide by it, 
retired to the kitchen. The maid at this time, happening to want 
a log of wood, requested Teague to cut it for her. Taking the 
ax accordingly, and going out, he was busy chopping, with his head 
down; while, in the mean time, the Indian treaty-man had 
returned with one in Indian dress, who was the chief of the Kill- 
inoos, or at least passed for such ; and whom he brought as having 
some recruiting talents, and might prevail with Teague to elope, 
and join the company. I presume, said the Indian treaty-man, 
you are the waiter of the Captain who lodges here at present. 
Teague hearing a man speak, and lifting up his head, saw the 
leggins on the one, and the Indian dress on the other; and with a 
kind of involuntary effort, threw the ax directly from him at the 
Killinno. It missed him but about an inch, and fell behind. 
Teague, in the mean time, raising a shout of desperation, was fixed 
on the spot, and his locomotive faculties suspended; so that he 
could neither retreat nor advance, but stood still, like one enchained 
or enchanted for a moment ; the king of the KiUinoos, in the mean 
time, drawing his tomahawk, and preparing for battle. 

The Captain, who was reading at a front window, hearing the 
shout, looked about, and saw what was going on at the wood-pile. 



HUGH HENRY BRACKENRIDGE 473 

Stop villain, said he, to the king of the Killinoos; you are not to 
take that scalp yet, however much you may value it. He will not 
take an hundred dollars for it, nor 500, though you make him king 
of the Kickapoos, or any thing else. It is no trifling matter to 
have the ears slit in tatters, and the nose run through with a bodkin, 
and a goose quill stuck across; so that you may go about your 
business; you will get no king of the Kickapoos here. Under 
cover of this address of the Captain, Teague had retired to the 
kitchen, and ensconced himself behind the rampart of the maid. 
The Indian treaty-man, and the Killinoo chief, finding the measure 
hopeless, withdrew, and turned their attention, it is to be supposed, 
to some other quarter, to find a king of the Kickapoos. 

CONTAINING OBSERVATIONS 

The captain was certainly to be commended in declining to 
countenance the imposition of making Teague a Kickapoo chief. 
Had he been disposed to adventure in a contraband trade of this 
kind, he might have undertaken it as a principal, and not as fur- 
nishing an assistant only. He could have passed Teague for a 
chief, and himself for an interpreter. He might pretend to have 
conducted this prince from a very distant nation, and that he had 
been several moons in travelling, and wanted, the Lord knows 
how much, goods for his people, that otherwise would come to 
war. By this means, the Captain would have taken the whole 
emolument of the treaty, and not have been put off with a small 
share of the profit which another made by it. 

I should like to have seen Teague in an Indian dress, come to 
treat with the commissioners. It would be necessary for him only 
to talk Irish, which he might pass for the Shawanese, or other 
language. The Captain could have interpreted in the usual words 
on these occasions. 

The policy of treating with the Indians is very good ; because it 
takes off a great deal of loose merchandize, that might otherwise 
lie upon our hands, and cuts away superfluities from the finances 
of the government; at the same time, as every fresh treaty lays 
the foundation of a new war, it vrill serve to check the too rapid 
growth of the settlements. The extremities of a government, 



474 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

like the arm or ancle of an individual, are the parts at which blood 
is to be let. 

Struck with the good effects of treating with the savages, and 
that our wise men who conduct affairs, pursue the policy, I have 
been led to wonder, that the agricultural societies, have not pro- 
posed treaties with the wolves and bears that they might not clan- 
destinely invade our sheep and pig folds. This might be done by 
sending messages to the several ursine and vulpine nations, and 
calling them to a council-fire, to which four or five hundred wagon 
load of beef should be sent, and distributed. If it should be said, 
that this would restrain them no longer from their prey than while 
they continued to be satiated, the same might be said of the Pota- 
watamies, or other Indian nations; and yet we see that those at 
the head of our affairs think it prudent to negociate with them. 

A bear and wolf treaty might seem an odd thing at first, but we 
should soon come to be accustomed to it. I should be sorry abuses 
should prevail, by treaty-making men passing rough water-dogs 
for bears, or mastiffs for wolves, upon our secretaries at war, or 
subordinate commissioners; which might be done as in the case 
of the savages where it is pretended that some tribes had not been 
at the general treaty, now sends a chief to represent them and get 
goods. 

If our traders go amongst the wolves in consequence of a treaty, 
I could wish they could check themselves in the introduction of 
spirituous liquors. A drunk wolf, or bear, would be a dangerous 
animal. It may be thought that a bear of [or] wolf chief would not 
get drunk, as it would be setting a bad example to their people; 
but I have seen Indian kings lying on the earth drunk, and exposing 
their nakedness, like Noah to Shem, Ham, and Japheth; and if 
Indians, that are a sort of human creatures, act thus, what might 
we not expect from a poor brute wolf or bear? 

If treaties with the wolves and bears should be found to succeed 
it might not be amiss to institute them also with the foxes. This 
is a sagacious animal, and destructive to ducks and other fowls. 
It would be a great matter to settle a treaty with them, which might 
be done at the expence of nine or ten thousand dollars laid out in 
goods. 



CHARLES BROCKDEN BROWN 

[Charles Brockden Brown is often spoken of as the first American nov- 
elist, and sometimes as the first American to devote himself to literature as a 
profession. He was born in Philadelphia, of Quaker parents, in 1771. 
After a somewhat desultory schooling, interrupted by poor health, he took 
up the study of law, but never practised. In his early manhood he came 
under the influence of Godwin, and this influence is seen both in his social 
and political philosophy, and in the titles and manner of his novels. His 
first important writing was "Alcuin," a dialogue on the rights of woman, 
published in 1797. Between the spring of 1798 and the close of 1801 he 
published six novels, "Wieland," "Ormond," "Arthur Mervyn," "Edgar 
Huntley," "Clara Howard," and "Jane Talbot." During the greater part 
of these three prolific years he was in New York, where he lived and wrote 
with a group of congenial literary friends. Even while he was turning out 
novels at the rate of almost two a year he was editing a magazine, and writ- 
ing fugitive pieces in prose and verse. After his return to Philadelphia in 
i8or, he edited magazines and wrote political and miscellaneous articles. 
At the time of his death in 1810 he was engaged on a "General Geography" 
and a "History of Rome in the Time of the Antonines." This hack work 
is interesting as showing what an American must do if he would live by his 
pen in the early years of the century. The only works of Brown that keep 
his fame alive are the novels already mentioned. 

These novels are of considerable intrinsic merit. As has been said, they 
show the influence of Godwin; and they abound in scenes of terror and 
mystery such as were the fashion of the time. In plots, and especially in the 
explanations of horrible and strange occurrences, they are weak. The style, 
too, is exceedingly loose and faulty. But the author had a genuine appre- 
ciation of the way in which mystery and terror affect the human mind, and 
he knew how to present incidents effectively. Structureless as his novels are, 
they hold the reader's attention to the end, and they abound in scenes of 
real power. This is due in part to the fact that the action in each case takes 
place in America, and that the setting and some of the incidents were based 
on personal experience and observation. The wild scenery described in 
"Edgar Huntley" is said to resemble regions near Philadelphia through 
which Brown wandered as a boy, and the pictures of the yellow fever epi- 
demic in "Ormond" and "Arthur Mervyn" are based on his observations 
of the plague in New York. 

The selections are from the only recent edition of Brown's complete works, 
published by McKay in 1887.] 

475 



476 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

A MYSTERIOUS WARNING 

[From "Wieland, or the Transformation"] 

The state of my mind naturally introduced a train of reflections 
upon the dangers and cares which inevitably beset a human being. 
By no violent transition was I led to ponder on the turbulent life 
and mysterious end of my father. I cherished with the utmost 
veneration the memory of this man, and every relic connected 
with his fate was preserved with the most scrupulous care. Among 
these was to be numbered a manuscript containing memoirs of his 
own life. The narrative was by no means recommended by its 
eloquence ; but neither did all its value flow from my relationship 
to the author. Its style had an unaffected and picturesque sim- 
plicity. The great variety and circumstantial display of the in- 
cidents, together with their intrinsic importance as descriptive of 
human manners and passions, made it the most useful book in my 
collection. It was late: but, being sensible of no inclination to 
sleep, I resolved to betake myself to the perusal of it. 

To do this, it was requisite to procure a light. The girl had 
long since retired to her chamber: it was therefore proper to wait 
upon myself. A lamp, and the means of lighting it, were only to 
be found in the kitchen. Thither I resolved forthwith to repair; 
but the light was of use merely to enable me to read the book. I 
knew the shelf and the spot where it stood. Whether I took down 
the book, or prepared the lamp in the first place, appeared to be 
a matter of no moment. The latter was preferred, and, leaving 
my seat, I approached the closet in which, as I mentioned formerly, 
my books and papers were deposited. 

Suddenly the remembrance of what had lately passed in this 
closet occurred. Whether midnight was approaching, or had 
passed, I knew not. I was, as then, alone and defenceless. The 
wind was in that direction in which, aided by the deathlike repose 
of nature, it brought to me the murmur of the waterfall. This was 
mingled with that solemn and enchanting sound which a breeze 
produces among the leaves of pines. The words of that mysterious 
dialogue, their fearful import, and the wild excess to which I was 
transported by my terrors, filled my imagination anew. My 
steps faltered, and I stood a moment to recover myself. 



CHARLES BROCKDEN BROWN 477 

I prevailed on myself at length to move towards the closet. I 
touched the lock, but my fingers were powerless; I was visited 
afresh by unconquerable apprehensions. A sort of belief darted 
into my mind that some being was concealed within whose pur- 
poses were evil. I began to contend with those fears, when it 
occurred to me that I might, without impropriety, go for a lamp 
previously to opening the closet. I receded a few steps ; but be- 
fore I reached the chamber door my thoughts took a new direction. 
Motion seemed to produce a mechanical influence upon me. I 
was ashamed of my weakness. Besides, what aid could be afforded 
me by a lamp ? 

My fears had pictured to themselves no precise object. It 
would be difficult to depict in words the ingredients and hues of 
that phantom which haunted me. A hand invisible and of pre- 
ternatural strength, lifted by human passions, and selecting my 
life for its aim, were parts of this terrific image. All places were 
alike accessible to this foe; or, if his empire were restricted by 
local bounds, those bounds were utterly inscrutable by me. But 
had I not been told, by some one in league with this enemy, 
that every place but the recess in the bank was exempt from 
danger ? 

I returned to the closet, and once more put my hand upon the 
lock. Oh, may my ears lose their sensibility ere they be again 
assailed by a shriek so terrible ! Not merely my understanding 
was subdued by the sound; it acted on my nerves like an edge of 
steel. It appeared to cut asunder the fibres of my brain and rack 
every joint with agony. 

The cry, loud and piercing as it was, was nevertheless human. 
No articulation was ever more distinct. The breath which ac- 
companied it did not fan my hair, yet did every circumstance com- 
bine to persuade me that the lips which uttered it touched my very 
shoulder. 

"Hold ! Hold !" were the words of this tremendous prohibition, 
in whose tone the whole soul seemed to be wrapped up, and every 
energy converted into eagerness and terror. 

Shuddering, I dashed myself against the wall, and, by the same 
involuntary impulse, turned my face backward to examine the 
mysterious monitor. The moonlight streamed into each window, 



478 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

and every corner of the room was conspicuous, and yet I beheld 
nothing ! 

The interval v^^as too brief to be artificially measured, between 
the utterance of these words and my scrutiny directed to the quar- 
ter whence they came. Yet, if a human being had been there, 
could he fail to have been visible ? Which of my senses was the 
prey of a fatal illusion? The shock which the sound produced 
was still felt in every part of my frame. The sound, therefore, 
could not but be a genuine commotion. But that I had heard it 
was not more true than that the being who uttered it was stationed 
at my right ear ; yet my attendant was invisible. 

I cannot describe the state of my thoughts at that moment. 
Surprise had mastered my faculties. My frame shook, and the vital 
current was congealed. I was conscious only to the vehemence 
of my sensations. This condition could not be lasting. Like a 
tide, which suddenly mounts to an overwhelming height and then 
gradually subsides, my confusion slowly gave place to order, and 
my tumults to a calm. I was able to deliberate and move. I 
resumed my feet, and advanced into the midst of the room. Up- 
ward, and behind, and on each side, I threw penetrating glances. 
I was not satisfied with one examination. He that hitherto re- 
fused to be seen might change his purpose, and on the next survey 
be clearly distinguishable. 

Solitude imposes least restraint upon the fancy. Dark is less 
fertile of images than the feeble lustre of the moon. I was alone, 
and the walls were checkered by shadowy forms. As the moon 
passed behind a cloud and emerged, these shadows seemed to be 
endowed with life, and to move. The apartment was open to the 
breeze, and the curtain was occasionally blown from its ordinary 
position. This motion was not unaccompanied with sound. I 
failed not to snatch a look and to Usten when this motion and this 
sound occurred. My behef that my monitor was posted near was 
strong, and instantly converted these appearances to tokens of his 
presence ; and yet I could discern nothing. 

When my thoughts were at length permitted to revert to the 
past, the first idea that occurred was the resemblance between the 
words of the voice which I had just heard and those which had 
terminated my dream in the summer-house. There are means 



CHARLES BROCKDEN BROWN 479 

ly which we are able to distinguish a substance from a shadow, 
. reality from the phantom of a dream. The pit, my brother 
leckoning me forward, the seizure of my arm, and the voice be- 
lind, were surely imaginary. That these incidents were fashioned 
1 my sleep is supported by the same indubitable evidence that 
ompels me to believe myself awake at present ; yet the words and 
he voice were the same. Then, by some inexplicable contrivance, 

was aware of the danger, while my actions and sensations were 
hose of one wholly unacquainted with it. Now, was it not equally 
rue that my actions and persuasions were at war? Had not the 
lelief that evil lurked in the closet gained admittance, and 
ad not my actions betokened an unwarrantable security? To 
bviate the effects of my infatuation, the same means had been 
sed. 

In my dream, he that tempted me to my destruction was my 
irother. Death was ambushed in my path. From what evil was 
now rescued ? What minister or implement of ill was shut up in 
his recess? WTio was it whose suffocating grasp I was to feel 
hould I dare to enter it? What monstrous conception is this? 
ly brother? 

No; protection, and not injury, is his pro\ince. Strange and 
errible chimera! Yet it would not be suddenly dismissed. It 
/as surely no \ailgar agency that gave this form to my fears. He 
D whom all parts of time are equally present, whom no contin- 
ency approaches, was the author of that spell which now seized 
pon me. Life was dear to me. No consideration was present 
hat enjoined me to relinquish it. Sacred duty combined with 
very spontaneous sentiment to endear to me my being. Should 

not shudder when my being was endangered? But what emo- 
ion should possess me when the arm lifted against me was Wie- 
and's ? 

Ideas exist in our minds that can be accounted for by no estab- 
ished laws. Why did I dream that my brother was my foe? 
Vhy but because an omen of my fate was ordained to be com- 
nunicated ? Yet what salutary end did it serve ? Did it arm me 
vdth caution to elude or fortitude to bear the e\-ils to which I was 
eserved? My present thoughts were, no doubt, indebted for their 
lue to the similitude existing between these incidents and those of 



480 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

my dream. Surely it was frenzy that dictated my deed. That a 
ruffian was hidden in the closet was an idea the genuine tendency 
of which was to urge me to flight. Such had been the effect 
formerly produced. Had my mind been simply occupied with this 
thought at present, no doubt the same impulse would have been 
experienced; but now it was my brother whom I was irresistibly 
persuaded to regard as the contriver of that ill of which I had been 
forewarned. This persuasion did not extenuate my fears or my 
danger. Why then did I again approach the closet and withdraw 
the bolt? My resolution was instantly conceived, and executed 
without faltering. 

The door was formed of light materials. The lock, of simple 
structure, easily forewent its hold. It opened into the room, and 
commonly moved upon its hinges, after being unfastened, without 
any effort of mine. This effort, however, was bestowed upon the 
present occasion. It was my purpose to open it with quickness; 
but the exertion which I made was ineffectual. It refused to 
open. 

At another time, this circumstance would not have looked with a 
face of mystery. I should have supposed some casual obstruction 
and repeated my efforts to surmount it. But now my mind was 
accessible to no conjecture but one. The door was hindered from 
opening by human force. Surely, here was a new cause for affright. 
This was confirmation proper to decide my conduct. Now was 
all ground of hesitation taken away. What could be supposed but 
that I deserted the chamber and the house? that I at least en- 
deavoured no longer to withdraw the door? 

Have I not said that my actions were dictated by frenzy? My 
reason had forborne, for a time, to suggest or to sway my resolves. 
I reiterated my endeavours. I exerted all my force to overcome 
the obstacle, but in vain. The strength that was exerted to keep 
it shut was superior to mine. 

A casual observer might, perhaps, applaud the audaciousness of 
this conduct. Whence, but from a habitual defiance of danger, 
could my perseverance arise? I have already assigned, as dis- 
tinctly as I am able, the cause of it. The frantic conception that 
my brother was within, that the resistance made to my design was 
exerted by him, had rooted itself in my mind. You will compre- 



CHARLES BROCK DEN BROWN 48 1 

hend the height of this infatuation, when I tell you that, finding all 
my exertions vain, I betook myself to exclamations. Surely I was 
utterly bereft of understanding. 

Now I had arrived at the crisis of my fate. "Oh, hinder not the 
door to open," I exclaimed, in a tone that had less of fear than of 
grief in it. "I know you well. Come forth, but harm me not. 
I beseech you, come forth." 

I had taken my hand from the lock, and removed to a small 
distance from the door. I had scarcely uttered these words, when 
the door swung upon its hinges, and displayed to my view the in- 
terior of the closet. Whoever was within was shrouded in dark- 
ness. A few seconds passed without interruption of the silence. I 
knew not what to expect or to fear. My eyes would not stray from 
the recess. Presently, a deep sigh was heard. The quarter from 
which it came heightened the eagerness of my gaze. Some one 
approached from the farther end. I quickly perceived the out- 
lines of a human figure. Its steps were irresolute and slow. I 
recoiled as it advanced. 

By coming at length within the verge of the room, his form was 
clearly distinguishable. I had prefigured to myself a very differ- 
ent personage. The face that presented itself was the last that I 
should desire to meet at an hour and in a place like this. My 
wonder was stilled by my fears. Assassins had lurked in this 
recess. Some divine voice warned me of danger that at this 
moment awaited me. I had spurned the intimation, and chal- 
lenged my adversary. 

I recalled the mysterious countenance and dubious character of 
Carwin. What motive but atrocious ones could guide his steps 
hither? I was alone. My habit suited the hour, and the place, 
and the warmth of the season. All succour was remote. He had 
placed himself between me and the door. My frame shook with 
the vehemence of my apprehensions. 

Yet I was not wholly lost to myself; I vigilantly marked his 
demeanour. His looks were grave, but not without perturbation. 
What species of inquietude it betrayed the light was not strong 
enough to enable me to discover. He stood still; but his eyes 
wandered from one object to another. When these powerful 
organs were fixed upon me, I shrunk into myself. At length he 



482 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

broke silence. Earnestness, and not embarrassment, was in his 
tone. He advanced close to me while he spoke : — 

"What voice was that which lately addressed you?" 

He paused for an answer; but, observing my trepidation, he 
resumed, with undiminished solemnity, "Be not terrified. Who- 
ever he was, he has done you an important service. I need not 
ask you if it were the voice of a companion. That sound was 
beyond the compass of human organs. The knowledge that en- 
abled him to tell you who was in the closet was obtained by in- 
comprehensible means. ' 

"You knew that Carwin was there. Were you not apprized of 
his intents ? The same power could impart the one as well as the 
other. Yet, knowing these, you persisted. Audacious girl! 
But perhaps you confided in his guardianship. Your confidence 
was just. With succour Kke this at hand you may safely defy me. 

"He is my eternal foe ; the baffler of my best-concerted schemes. 
Twice have you been saved by his accursed interposition. But 
for him I should long ere now have borne away the spoils of your 
honour." 

AN INCIDENT OF THE YELLOW FEVER PANIC IN 
PHILADELPHIA 

[From "Ormond"] 

Adjacent to the house occupied by Baxter was an antique brick 
tenement. It was one of the first erections made by the followers 
of William Penn. It had the honour to be used as the temporary 
residence of that venerable person. Its moss-grown pent-house, 
crumbling walls, and ruinous porch, made it an interesting and 
picturesque object. Notwithstanding its age, it was still tenable. 

This house was occupied, during the preceding months, by a 
Frenchman. His dress and demeanour were respectable. His 
mode of life was frugal almost to penuriousness, and his only 
companion was a daughter. The lady seemed not much less than 
thirty years of age, but was of a small and delicate frame. It was 
she that performed every household office. She brought water 
from the pump and provisions from the market. Their house 



CHARLES BROCKDEN BROWN 483 

had no visitants, and was almost always closed. Duly, as the 
morning returned, a venerable figure was seen issuing from his 
door, dressed in the same style of tarnished splendour and old- 
fashioned preciseness. At the dinner-hour he as regularly returned. 
For the rest of the day he was invisible. 

The habitations in this quarter are few and scattered. The 
pestilence soon showed itself here, and the flight of most of the 
inhabitants augmented its desolateness and dreariness. For 
some time, Monrose (that was his name) made his usual appear- 
ance in the morning. At length the neighbours remarked that he 
no longer came forth as usual. Baxter had a notion that French- 
men were exempt from this disease. He was, besides, deeply 
and rancorously prejudiced against that nation. There will be no 
difficulty in accounting for this, when it is known that he had been 
an English grenadier at Dettingen and Minden. It must likewise 
be added, that he was considerably timid, and had sickness in his 
own family. Hence it was that the disappearance of Monrose 
excited in him no inquisitiveness as to the cause. He did not 
even mention this circumstance to others. 

The lady was occasionally seen as usual in the street. There 
were always remarkable peculiarities in her behaviour. In the 
midst of grave and disconsolate looks, she never laid aside an air 
of solemn dignity. She seemed to shrink from the observation of 
others, and her eyes were always fixed upon the ground. One 
evening Baxter was passing the pump while she was drawing water. 
The sadness which her looks betokened, and a suspicion that her 
father might be sick, had a momentary effect upon his feelings. 
He stopped and asked how her father was. She paid a polite 
attention to his question, and said something in French. This, 
and the embarrassment of her air, convinced him that his words 
were not understood. He said no more, (what, indeed, could he 
say?) but passed on. 

Two or three days after this, on returning in the evening to his 
family, his wife expressed her surprise in not having seen Miss 
Monrose in the street that day. She had not been at the pump, 
nor had gone, as usual, to market. This information gave him 
some disquiet; yet he could form no resolution. As to entering 
the house and offering his aid, if aid were needed, he had too 



484 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

much regard for his own safety, and too little for that of a frog- 
eating Frenchman, to think seriously of that expedient. His at- 
tention was speedily diverted by other objects, and Monrose was, 
for the present, forgotten. 

Baxter's profession was that of a porter. He was thrown out of 
employment by the present state of things. The solicitude of the 
guardians of the city was exerted on this occasion, not only in 
opposing the progress of disease and furnishing provisions to the 
destitute, but in the preservation of property. For this end the 
number of nightly watchmen was increased. Baxter entered 
himself in this service. From nine till twelve o'clock at night it 
was his province to occupy a certain post. 

On this night he attended his post as usual. Twelve o'clock 
arrived, and he bent his steps homeward. It was necessary to pass 
by Monrose's door. On approaching this house, the circumstance 
mentioned by his wife occurred to him. Something like compas- 
sion was conjured up in his heart by the figure of the lady, as he 
recollected to have lately seen it. It was obvious to conclude 
that sickness was the cause of her seclusion. The same, it might 
be, had confined her father. If this were true, how deplorable 
might be their present condition ! Without food, without physician 
or friends, ignorant of the language of the country, and thence 
unable to communicate their wants or soUcit succour, fugitives 
from their native land, neglected, solitary, and poor. 

His heart was softened by these images. He stopped involun- 
tarily when opposite their door. He looked up at the house. The 
shutters were closed, so that light, if it were within, was invisible. 
He stepped into the porch, and put his eye to the keyhole. All 
was darksome and waste. He listened, and imagined that he 
heard the aspirations of grief. The sound was scarcely articulate, 
but had an electrical effect upon his feelings. He retired to his 
home full of mournful reflections. 

He was willing to do something for the relief of the sufiferers, 
but nothing could be done that night. Yet succour, if delayed 
till the morning, might be ineffectual. But how, when the morning 
came, should he proceed to effectuate his kind intentions? The 
guardians of the public welfare, at this crisis, were distributed 
into those who counselled and those who executed. A set of men, 



CHARLES BROCKDEN BROWN 485 

self-appointed to the generous office, employed themselves in 
seeking out the destitute or sick, and imparting relief. With 
this arrangement Baxter was acquainted. He was resolved to 
carry tidings of what he had heard and seen to one of those persons 
early the next day. 

Baxter, after taking some refreshment, retired to rest. In no 
long time, however, he was awakened by his wife, who desired him 
to notice a certain glimmering on the ceiling. It seemed the 
feeble and flitting ray of a distant and moving light, coming 
through the window. It did not proceed from the street, for the 
chamber was lighted from the side and not from the front of the 
house. A lamp borne by a passenger, or the attendants of a hearse, 
could not be discovered in this situation. Besides, in the latter 
case it would be accompanied by the sound of the vehicle, and, 
probably, by weeping and exclamations of despair. His employ- 
ment, as the guardian of property, naturally suggested to him the 
idea of robbery. He started from his bed, and went to the window. 

His house stood at the distance of about fifty paces from that 
of Monrose. There was annexed to the latter a small garden or 
yard, bounded by a high wooden fence. Baxter's window over- 
looked this space. Before he reached the window, the relative 
situation of the two habitations occurred to him. A conjecture 
was instantly formed that the glimmering proceeded from this 
quarter. His eye, therefore, was immediately fixed upon Mon- 
rose's back-door. It caught a glimpse of a human figure passing 
into the house through this door. The person had a candle in 
his hand. This appeared by the light which streamed after him, 
and which was perceived, though faintly, through a small window 
of the dwelling, after the back-door was closed. 

The person disappeared too quickly to allow him to say whether 
it was male or female. This scrutiny confirmed rather than weak- 
ened the apprehensions that first occurred. He reflected on the 
desolate and helpless condition of this family. The father might 
be sick; and what opposition could be made by the daughter to 
the stratagems or violence of midnight plunderers ? This was an 
evil which it was his duty, in an extraordinary sense, to obviate. 
It is true, the hour of watching was past, and this was not the dis- 
trict assigned to him; but Baxter was, on the whole, of a generous 



486 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

and intrepid spirit. In the present case, therefore, he did not 
hesitate long in forming his resolution. He seized a hanger that 
hung at his bedside, and which had hewn many a Hungarian and 
French hussar to pieces. With this he descended to the street. 
He cautiously approached Monrose's house. He listened at the 
door, but heard nothing. The lower apartment, as he discovered 
through the keyhole, was deserted and dark. These appearances 
could not be accounted for. He was, as yet, unwilling to call or 
to knock. He was solicitous to obtain some information by silent 
means, and without alarming the persons within, who, if they 
were robbers, might thus be put upon their guard and enabled to 
escape. If none but the family were there, they would not under- 
stand his signals, and might impute the disturbance to the cause 
which he was desirous to obviate. What could he do ? Must he 
patiently wait till some incident should happen to regulate his 
motions ? 

In this uncertainty, he bethought himself of going round to the 
back part of the dwelling and watching the door which had been 
closed. An open space, filled with rubbish and weeds, adjoined 
the house and garden on one side. Hither he repaired, and, 
raising his head above the fence, at a point directly opposite the 
door, waited with considerable impatience for some token or signal 
by which he might be directed in his choice of measures. 

Human life abounds with mysterious appearances. A man 
perched on a fence at midnight, mute and motionless, and gazing 
at a dark and dreary dwelling, was an object calculated to rouse 
curiosity. When the muscular form and rugged visage, scarred 
and furrowed into something like ferocity, were added, — when the 
nature of the calamity by which the city wrs dispeopled was con- 
sidered, — the motives to plunder, and the insecurity of property, 
arising from the pressure of new wants on the poor and the flight 
or disease of the rich, v/ere attended to, — an observer would be 
apt to admit fearful conjectures. 

We know not how long Baxter continued at this post. He re- 
mained here, because he could not, as he conceived, change it for 
a better. Before his patience was exhausted, his attention was 
called by a noise within the house. It proceeded from the lower 
room. The sound was that of steps, but this was accompanied 



CHARLES BROCKDEN BROWN 487 

with other inexplicable tokens. The kitchen-door at length opened. 
The figure of Miss Monrose, pale, emaciated, and haggard, pre- 
sented itself. Within the door stood a candle. It was placed on a 
chair within sight, and its rays streamed directly against the face 
of Baxter as it was reared above the top of the fence. This illumi- 
nation, faint as it was, bestowed a certain air of wildness on 
features which nature, and the sanguinary habits of a soldier, had 
previously rendered, in an eminent degree, harsh and stern. He 
was not aware of the danger of discovery in consequence of this 
position of the candle. His attention was, for a few seconds, en- 
grossed by the object before him. At length he chanced to notice 
another object. 

At a few yards' distance from the fence, and within it, some one 
appeared to have been digging. An opening was made in the 
ground, but it was shallow and irregular. The implement which 
seemed to have been used was nothing more than a fire-shovel, 
for one of these he observed lying near the spot. The lady had 
withdrawn from the door, though without closing it. He had 
leisure, therefore, to attend to this new circumstance, and to re- 
flect upon the purpose for which this opening might have been 
designed. 

Death is famiUar to the apprehensions of a soldier. Baxter had 
assisted at the hasty interment of thousands, the victims of the 
sword or of pestilence. Whether it was because this theatre of 
human calamity was new to him, and death, in order to be viewed 
with his ancient unconcern, must be accompanied in the ancient 
manner, with halberds and tents, certain it is that Baxter was irres- 
olute and timid in every thing that respected the yellow fever. 
The circumstances of the time suggested that this was a grave, to 
which some victim of this disease was to be consigned. His teeth 
chattered when he reflected how near he might now be to the source 
of infection ; yet his curiosity retained him at his post. 

He fixed his eyes once more upon the door. In a short time the 
lady again appeared at it. She was in a stooping posture, and 
appeared to be dragging something along the floor. His blood ran 
cold at this spectacle. His fear instantly figured to itself a corpse, 
livid and contagious. Still, he had no power to move. The 
lady's strength, enfeebled as it was by grief, and perhaps by the 



488 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

absence of nourishment, seemed scarcely adequate to the task which 
she had assigned herself. 

Her burden, whatever it was, was closely wrapped in a sheet. 
She drew it forward a few paces, then desisted, and seated herself 
on the ground, apparently to recruit her strength and give vent to 
the agony of her thoughts in sighs. Her tears were either ex- 
hausted or refused to flow, for none were shed by her. Presently 
she resumed her undertaking. Baxter's horror increased in pro- 
portion as she drew nearer to the spot where he stood; and yet it 
seemed as if some fascination had forbidden him to recede. 

At length the burden was drawn to the side of the opening in 
the earth. Here it seemed as if the mournful task was finished. 
She threw herself once more upon the earth. Her senses seemed 
for a time to have forsaken her. She sat buried in reverie, her 
eyes scarcely open, and fixed upon the ground, and every feature 
set to the genuine expression of sorrow. Some disorder, occa- 
sioned by the circumstance of dragging, now took place in the 
vestment of what he had rightly predicted to be a dead body. 
The veil by accident was drawn aside, and exhibited to the startled 
eye of Baxter the pale and ghastly visage of the unhappy Monrose. 

This incident determined him. Every joint in his frame 
trembled, and he hastily withdrew from the fence. His first 
motion in doing this produced a noise by which the lady was 
alarmed; she suddenly threw her eyes upward, and gained a 
full view of Baxter's extraordinary countenance, just before it 
disappeared. She manifested her terror by a piercing shriek, 
Baxter did not stay to mark her subsequent conduct, to confirm 
or to dissipate her fears, but retired, in confusion, to his own 
house. 

AN ADVENTURE IN THE WILDERNESS 

[From "Edgar Huntley"] 

I reached the mouth of the cave. Till now I had forgotten 
that a lamp or a torch might be necessary to direct my subter- 
ranean footsteps. I was unwilling to defer the attempt. Light 
might possibly be requisite, if the cave had no other outlet. Some- 
what might present itself within to the eyes, which might forever 



CHARLES BROCK DEN BROWN 489 

elude the hands, but I was more inclined to consider it merely as 
an avenue terminating in an opening on the summit of the steep, 
or on the opposite side of the ridge. Caution might supply the 
place of light, or, having explored the cave as far as possible at 
present, I might hereafter return, better furnished for the scrutiny. 

With these determinations, I proceeded. The entrance was 
low, and compelled me to resort to hands as well as feet. At a 
few yards from the mouth the light disappeared, and I found 
myself immersed in the dunnest obscurity. Had I not been per- 
suaded that another had gone before me, I should have relin- 
quished the attempt. I proceeded with the utmost caution, 
always ascertaining, by outstretched arms, the height and breadth 
of the cavity before me. In a short time the dimensions expanded 
on all sides, and permitted me to resume my feet. 

I walked upon a smooth and gentle declivity. Presently the 
wall on one side, and the ceiling, receded beyond my reach. I 
began to fear that I should be involved in a maze, and should be 
disabled from returning. To obviate this danger it was requisite 
to adhere to the nearest wall, and conform to the direction which 
it should take, without straying through the palpable obscurity. 
Whether the ceiling was lofty or low, whether the opposite wall 
of the passage was distant or near, this I deemed no proper oppor- 
tunity to investigate. 

In a short time, my progress was stopped by an abrupt descent. 
I set down the advancing foot with caution, being aware that I 
might at the next step encounter a bottomless pit. To the brink 
of such a one I seemed now to have arrived. I stooped, and 
stretched my hand forward and downward, but all was vacuity. 

Here it was needful to pause. I had reached the brink of a 
cavity whose depth it was impossible to ascertain. It might be a 
few inches beyond my reach, or hundreds of feet. By leaping 
down I might incur no injury, or might plunge into a lake or 
dash myself to pieces on the points of rocks. 

I now saw with new force the propriety of being furnished with 
a light. The first suggestion was to return upon my footsteps, 
and resume my undertaking on the morrow. Yet, having ad- 
vanced thus far, I felt reluctance to recede without accomplish- 
ing my purposes. I reflected likewise that Clithero had boldly 



490 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

entered this recess, and had certainly come forth at a different 
avenue from that at which he entered. 

At length it occurred to me that, though I could not go for- 
ward, yet I might proceed along the edge of this cavity. This 
edge would be as safe a guidance, and would serve as well for a 
clue by which I might return, as the wall which it was now 
necessary to forsake. 

Intense dark is always the parent of fears. Impending injuries 
cannot in this state be descried, nor shunned, nor repelled. I 
began to feel some faltering of my courage, and seated myself, 
for a few minutes, on a stony mass which arose before me. My 
situation was new. The caverns I had hitherto met with in this 
desert were chiefly formed of low-browed rocks. They were 
chambers, more or less spacious, into which twilight was at least 
admitted ; but here it seemed as if I were surrounded by barriers 
that would forever cut off my return to air and to light. 

Presently I resumed my courage and proceeded. My road 
appeared now to ascend. On one side I seemed still upon the 
verge of a precipice, and on the other all was empty and waste. 
I had gone no inconsiderable distance, and persuaded myself that 
my career would speedily terminate. In a short time, the space 
on the left hand was again occupied, and I cautiously proceeded 
between the edge of the gulf and a rugged wall. As the space 
between them widened I adhered to the wall. 

I was not insensible that my path became more intricate and 
more difi&cult to retread in proportion as I advanced. I en- 
deavoured to preserve a vivid conception of the way which I had 
already passed, and to keep the images of the left and right-hand 
wall, and the gulf, in due succession in my memory. 

The path, which had hitherto been considerably smooth, now 
became rugged and steep. Chilling damps, the secret trepida- 
tion which attended me, the length and difficulties of my way, 
enhanced by the ceaseless caution and the numerous expedients 
which the utter darkness obliged me to employ, began to over- 
power my strength. I was frequently compelled to stop and 
recruit myself by rest. These respites from toil were of use, but 
they could not enable me to prosecute an endless journey, and to 
return was scarcely a less arduous task than to proceed. 



CHARLES BROCKDEN BROWN 491 

I looked anxiously forward, in the hope of being comforted by 
some dim ray, which might assure me that my labours were 
approaching an end. At last this propitious token appeared, and 
I issued forth into a kind of chamber, one side of which was open 
to the air and allowed me to catch a portion of the checkered 
sky. This spectacle never before excited such exquisite sensa- 
tions in my bosom. The air, likewise, breathed into the cavern, 
was unspeakably delicious. 

I now found myself on the projecture of a rock. Above and 
below, the hill-side was nearly perpendicular. Opposite, and at 
the distance of fifteen or twenty yards, was a similar ascent. At 
the bottom was a glen, cold, narrow, and obscure. This pro- 
jecture, which served as a kind of vestibule to the cave, was con- 
nected with a ledge, by which, though not without peril and toil, 
I was conducted to the summit. 

This summit was higher than any of those which were inter- 
posed between itself and the river. A large part of this chaos of 
rocks and precipices was subjected, at one view, to the eye. The 
fertile lawns and vales which lay beyond this, the winding course 
of the river, and the slopes which rose on its farther side, were 
parts of this extensive scene. These objects were at any time 
fitted to inspire rapture. Now my delight was enhanced by the 
contrast which this lightsome and serene element bore to the 
glooms from which I had lately emerged. My station, also, was 
higher, and the limits of my view, consequently, more ample than 
any which I had hitherto enjoyed. 

I advanced to the outer verge of the hill, which I found to 
overlook a steep no less inaccessible, and a glen equally profound. 
I changed frequently my station in order to diversify the scenery. 
At length it became necessary to inquire by what means I should 
return. I traversed the edge of the hill, but on every side it 
was equally steep and always too lofty to permit me to leap 
from it. As I kept along the verge, I perceived that it tended 
in a circular direction, and brought me back, at last, to the spot 
from which I had set out. From this inspection, it seemed as 
if return was impossible by any other way than that through the 
cavern. 

I now turned my attention to the interior space. If you imagine 



492 EARLY AMERICAN WRITERS 

a cylindrical mass, with a cavity dug in the centre, whose edge 
conforms to the exterior edge; and if you place in this cavity 
another cylinder, higher than that which surrounds it, but so 
small as to leave between its sides and those of the cavity a hol- 
low space, you will gain as distinct an image of this hill as words 
can convey. The summit of the inner rock was rugged and 
covered with trees of unequal growth. To reach this summit 
would not render my return easier; but its greater elevation 
would extend my view, and perhaps furnish a spot from which 
the whole horizon was conspicuous. 

As I had traversed the outer, I now explored the inner, edge of 
this hill. At length I reached a spot where the chasm, separating 
the two rocks, was narrower than at any other part. At first 
view, it seemed as if it were possible to leap over it, but a nearer 
examination showed me that the passage was impracticable. So 
far as my eye could estimate it, the breadth was thirty or forty 
feet. I could scarcely venture to look beneath. The height 
was dizzy, and the walls, which approached each other at top, 
receded at the bottom, so as to form the resemblance of an im- 
mense hall, lighted from a rift which some convulsion of nature 
had made in the roof. Where I stood there ascended a perpetual 
mist, occasioned by a torrent that dashed along the rugged pave- 
ment below. 

From these objects I willingly turned my eye upon those before 
and above me, on the opposite ascent. A stream, rushing from 
above, fell into a cavity, which its own force seemed gradually to 
have made. The noise and the motion equally attracted my 
attention. There was a desolate and solitary grandeur in the 
scene, enhanced by the circumstances in which it was beheld, 
and by the perils through which I had recently passed, that had 
never before been witnessed by me. 

A sort of sanctity and awe environed it, owing to the conscious- 
ness of absolute and utter loneliness. It was probable that 
human feet had never before gained this recess, that human eyes 
had never been fixed upon these gushing waters. The aboriginal 
inhabitants had no motives to lead them into caves like this and 
ponder on the verge of such a precipice. Their successors were 
still less likely to have wandered hither. Since the birth of this 



CHARLES BROCKDEN BROWN 493 

continent, I was probably the first who had deviated thus re- 
motely from the customary paths of men. 

While musing upon these ideas, my eye was fixed upon the 
foaming current. At length I looked upon the rocks which con- 
fined and embarrassed its course. I admired their fantastic 
shapes and endless irregularities. Passing from one to the 
other of these, my attention lighted, at length, as if by some 
magical transition, on — a human countenance. 



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